Security Breach
by BoomerCat
Summary: A Tracy brother pays the price when Thunderbird Two's security is breached
1. Chapter 1

**Security Breach**

Scott Tracy wearily flipped the last switch to shut down Thunderbird One and sat back for a moment. The mission to rescue tourists caught in a capsized boat under Niagara Falls had been fairly routine but also wet, cold and very, very noisy.

Fortunately, it has also been successful, with all twenty aboard safely returned to land, albeit with scrapes, bruises, and in two cases, broken bones.

Shrugging his shoulders to ease a kink, Scott slid out of his seat and headed for the hatch. A hot shower would take care of the lingering chill in his bones and with any luck, he could score some of the cookies his grandmother had been baking before he left.

He crossed the gantry to the hidden entrance into the lounge of his home. As he spun around into the room, his father looked up from his reading. "Everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Dad. Virgil and Gordon should be home in about an hour or so."

Jeff Tracy responded with an approving smile. "Good enough. We'll debrief after lunch."

Scott glanced at his chronometer and nodded. That would give his brothers a chance to get cleaned up. He grinned an acknowledgement to his father and headed for his bedroom.

An hour later, he stood clean and blessedly dry, munching on a cookie, waiting for his brothers. Virgil appeared from the elevator and smiled tiredly. Scott grinned in return and tossed his brother a cookie. "Where's Gordon?"

"I dunno. Probably left him behind."

Scott chuckled at the old joke. "You look like something not even a cat would drag in."

"That's about how I feel. God, there's nothing worse than flying two hours with damp drawers."

"Aw, do you need Grandma to bring the diaper rash cream?"

"Oh, ha-ha. Very funny."

"Just trying to help."

"You want to help, just don't stand between me and the shower."

"I hear you. Debrief's after lunch, so take your time."

"Okay, great." Virgil trudged away.

Scott loitered for a while, waiting for Gordon, but the younger man didn't put in an appearance. Knowing his brother occasionally headed straight for the swimming pool after a rescue, Scott eventually wandered back to the lounge to talk to his father.

Scott had barely seated himself when an automated alarm went off causing him to practically jump out of his skin. "What?"

"It's the intruder alert in the hangar bay."

Scott felt a tickle of annoyance. "Gordon."

Jeff frowned the question at his eldest.

"He didn't come up with Virg. I thought he went swimming, but he's obviously still in the hangar."

Jeff's frown deepened as he hit a switch on his desk. "Gordon, report."

Both men waited, expecting an apology and explanation. When the expectation wasn't met promptly, Scott shifted in his seat, not wanting to catch any misplaced anger from his father.

When it was apparent that his errant son was not going to answer, Jeff hit a few more switches, then looked up at a screen that replaced his son Alan's portrait. A schematic of the Tracy Villa appeared. It rotated momentarily before zooming in to display a glowing dot positioned in an area marked Thunderbird Two Hangar Bay.

With a disturbed glance at Scott, Jeff said, "Computer, bring up the security cameras in Thunderbird Two Hangar Bay."

Scott looked on with interest. John and Brains had recently installed voice recognition software and it was still in the fine-tuning stage. Just the previous day, his father had asked for the games room and had a virtual tour of the entire villa before the computer got it right.

Today, it got it right in one, and Scott felt his stomach tighten at the sight. "Shit."

Without another word, Scott leapt up and headed for the arms locker at an all-out run. He heard his father behind him ordering Alan and Virgil to head for the corridor outside the cavernous hangar bay and everyone else into hiding.

Scott's mouth was dry as he armed himself. The man in the hangar bay was definitely not his brother. He was dressed in a blue International Rescue uniform complete with orange sash that he could only have gotten from Gordon. And he obviously had taken Gordon's wrist comm, which had allowed them to locate him.

Grabbing extra weapons, Scott raced to meet up with his brothers. He reached the corridor and found his father bringing Virgil and Alan up to date. As he came up, he saw the color drain from Virgil's face. "No, I didn't talk to him the entire flight home. I know he was aboard, Dad. I mean, I saw him securing the gear when we wrapped up."

Scott laid a hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Easy, Virg. We'll figure it out."

Scott unslung the rifles he had brought, passing them out to his father and brothers. "For now, let's just concentrate on taking this guy down."

"Boys, I want him alive if possible, but under no circumstances are you to put yourselves at risk." Jeff stated grimly.

"Is it just one guy? What if there's more than one? They could be holding Gordon hostage." Alan's voice shook as he spoke, but his movements in checking his rifle were sure and professional.

Scott lifted his wrist comm and pushed a button on the side. "Computer, determine number of lifesigns in Thunderbird Two Hangar Bay."

After a moment, the computer delivered devastating news in a clear mechanical tone. "One lifesign."

Scott heard little more over the rush of fury that nearly overwhelmed him. Until that moment, he hadn't allowed himself to think about what could have happened to his brother.

The sudden harsh breathing around him said his family was quick to understand the implications. When his father spoke, his voice was husky and strained. "Computer, pinpoint lifesign location in Thunderbird Two Hangar Bay."

"Lifesign is located two meters left, seven point three meters forward from entrance A, Thunderbird Two Hangar Bay."

The four Tracys arranged themselves at the entrance, a grim and determined group. Scott looked at the deployment and with a sharp nod of his head, hit the door control.

Like all the doors in the villa, this one operated on hydraulics, and there was a clear swooshing sound as it opened. The small dark-skinned man in Gordon's uniform looked up sharply at the sound, and seeing the raised rifles, bolted for the open ramp of the pod.

Scott shouted angrily, "Freeze!"

The man never paused, instead diving for the safety of the pod. Alan and Virgil headed for the rear of the pod, intending to flank the intruder. Scott and Jeff advanced, taking advantage of every scrap of cover, Jeff calling out, "Give it up. There's no way out of here."

The two men paused to give Virgil and Alan a chance to get into position. With an abrupt flash, gunfire rang out. Scott threw himself forward, making it to the outer wall of the pod. He rolled and frantically looked around for his father.

His eyes found Jeff hunkered down behind a workbench. The two men shared a look of absolute wrath. Scott started to signal his advance, when the cacophonous chatter of an automatic rifle echoed throughout the vast area.

The chatter multiplied as a second gun replied, and then a third. Scott moved quickly to peer around the corner of the pod. As he did so, his brother Alan called out in grim triumph. "He's down!"

Scott felt a mixture of relief and anger. With the intruder down, his family was safe, but he really had wanted a piece of the guy. He moved cautiously forward, gun to the fore. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his father moving likewise. From across the wide ramp, Alan gestured toward the side of Thunderbird Four, sitting patiently on its launching rack.

Scott felt a sudden intense pang of grief upon seeing the evidence of bullet damage to the little sub. Ruthlessly, he buried the thoughts of his brother that tried to crowd his mind.

Alan indicated the intruder had fallen in the shadows to the left. Scott knew that 'down' did not necessarily mean 'out'. He signaled caution to his team, and the four men advanced quietly, Virgil appearing from behind another workbench.

Scott took the lead, making sure that if the bastard needed a target, it would be him and not one of his family. As he approached, he realized his caution was unnecessary. The intruder was clearly dead, several gunshot wounds sluggishly spreading a red stain across the stolen blue uniform. Scott ruthlessly suppressed the bite of nausea that the sight of his brother's uniform so defiled raised in him.

"I wanted this bastard alive." Jeff's voice was cold.

"Sorry." Alan responded, his stance and tone indicating he was anything but.

"How could this have happened?" Virgil's despair drew every eye in the room. Scott moved to stand next to his brother.

"This was not your fault, son." Like his sons, Jeff was standing stiffly, as if by holding themselves still they could change what had happened.

Scott recognized the need to get things moving. Giving Virgil a comforting pat on the shoulder, he moved to the body. "Alan needs to go get John. We're going to need him. Dad, you'd better go tell Grandma, and send Brains down. I can check for any obvious tracking devices, but I'll want a scan of the body to be sure we're secure. Virgil, I want the security tapes from Thunderbird Two. All of them."

There was a pause, then Jeff started to move toward the elevator. As if a spell had been broken, Virgil and Alan both moved to their respective tasks. Scott took on the distasteful job of searching the body.

The man was weathered, brown. His hands showed the calluses of a life of labor. Scott felt a muscle in his jaw work as he realized this man looked no different from a hundred different men he had rescued over the years. There was nothing in the slack features that would have pointed him out as a murderer.

But it seemed very clear that the man was in fact a murderer. Upon close examination, he was sure the uniform was actually Gordon's and not some copy meant to get him by. Scott couldn't conceive of any circumstance in which Gordon would have surrendered his clothes willingly.

At a clatter behind him, Scott looked up over his shoulder. Brains stood there, white-faced, staring at the body. The engineer looked as devastated as Scott felt. Determined not to give into his feelings, Scott nodded. "Good, you brought the gurney. Help me get him up. You take his legs."

Brains started, then without a word, moved to do as he was told. Together, the men got the body loaded. As Brains was covering the man with a sheet, a deep rumble echoed through the pod.

Scott felt a grim relief as the roar of Thunderbird Three taking off slowly faded. As a commander, he knew the value of keeping busy when disaster struck. He knew Alan in particular was going to have a hard time coming to grips with the death of their brother.

As Brains pushed the gurney toward the freight elevator that would take him to the laboratory, Scott turned to Thunderbird Two. He gritted his teeth as his mind supplied a memory of Gordon carrying a can of florescent orange paint, threatening to splash it on Thunderbird Two if Virgil didn't stop working and come to dinner.

He started toward the big ship, then paused, looking back at Pod Four sitting so innocently on the conveyor. It occurred to Scott that a search for Gordon's body would have to be made. Deciding that he didn't want to subject his family to that gruesome discovery, he turned back to the pod, and began a search.

He had been at it for twenty minutes without success when he heard Virgil calling his name. Stepping out from behind Thunderbird Four, he called out, "I'm in here, Virg."

Virgil appeared from around the edge of the pod, a look of grim fury on his face. "He compromised the security systems."

Scott's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

Virgil held up a grayish lump of metal, barely recognizable as an infrared sensor. "As far as I can tell, it was some kind of acid. Somehow he got close enough to spray the anti-personnel sensors. He got the security cameras, too. I don't know if any of it is salvageable."

"Damn it. Were you able to get anything?"

"I'm not sure. I found part of the memory intact, but it won't play. We need Brains or John to take a look at it."

"Okay. Listen, you go take what you've got up to the lab. Get Brains on it. Then you'd better help Dad with Grandma."

"What will you be doing?"

Scott grimaced. He needed to search Thunderbird Two for Gordon's body, and the last person he wanted there was Virgil. "That asshole was running around here for at least twenty minutes before we discovered him. I'm going to run a sweep, make sure he didn't leave us any surprises," he dissembled.

Virgil took a steadying breath. "Okay. Let me get this up to Brains, and I'll come back and help."

Scott shook his head, "I'd rather you helped Grandma. This could kill her."

Scott felt a rush of grief as he realized what he said was true. The sudden moisture in his brother's eyes told him that Virgil realized the truth of his statement also. Without another word, the younger man turned and headed for the elevator.

Knowing Virgil would only stay away as long as necessary, Scott turned again to the grisly task of locating his brother's body. He was finally running out of places to check, when to his shock, he heard the bass roar that signified the return of Thunderbird Three. A glance at his chronometer showed he'd been at it for almost four hours.

Coming to the reluctant conclusion that he wasn't going to find anything without help, he headed for the lounge. As he rode the elevator up to the house level, a muscle in his jaw twitched. It bothered him that he'd been left alone for as long as he had. It indicated that his father and brother had their hands full with other issues.

Scott reached the lounge at the same time as the sofa conveyor from Thunderbird Three. He noted that both John and Alan looked unnaturally pale, but determined. Upon spying his brother Alan leapt up. "Scott, we've got to get back to Niagara Falls. John thinks Gordy's probably there."

Scott frowned and turned his attention to John. "You know something I don't?"

With a curt shake of his head, John responded. "No, but it stands to reason, doesn't it? Gordon's tough. There's no way this guy could have taken him alone. He had to have help. That means someone's got Gordon prisoner somewhere."

John wouldn't look him in the eye, and Scott sensed the underlying desperate denial. He wished he could believe it, but it struck Scott as unlikely. The intruder had defeated their most sophisticated security system. It didn't strike Scott as all that great a stretch to think he could take out an unsuspecting operative. Still, he couldn't bring himself to destroy his brothers' hopes.

"Well, Virg pulled the security tapes. He says they were compromised, but between you and Brains, I reckon you'll find something. When we see what happened, we'll know what we need to do."

John nodded, still not looking up. "I'd better head for the lab then."

"I'm coming with you." Alan said firmly.

Scott stopped his youngest brother with a hand on his sleeve. "We need to go talk to Grandma, first."

Alan paused, a stricken look on his face. His hands came together in a washing motion, an old childhood habit when he was worried. When he saw Scott glance down at his hands, he self-consciously stopped the motion instead rubbing his hands on his pants. "Yeah, okay."

Together, the brothers headed for the bedroom wing of the house. As they approached their grandmother's room, Scott could hear soft voices. With a perfunctory knock, he opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks, his stomach bottoming out.

Instead of the expected scene of his father comforting his grandmother, he found something that shook him to his core. His brother Virgil sat on the edge of his grandma's four poster bed, his head in his hands. Scott's grandma and father were flanking him, speaking in low comforting tones.

Behind him, Alan made a soft inarticulate cry and pushed past Scott, hurrying to crouch in front of his older brother. "Virg, it's okay. We're gonna find him. Johnny and me are gonna go to Niagara Falls. We'll find him, you'll see."

Scott felt frozen. He'd rarely admitted, even to himself, that he relied on Virgil's steady calm to see him through all manner of crises. Seeing his brother so upset felt like his own personal earthquake. He couldn't move for fear of falling.

He stood in the doorway, staring at the tableau before him, unable to act. Then his grandmother looked up at him, the simple compassion on her face thawing the incipient ice in his heart. He moved to stand by her, and she reached up, taking his hand in her soft comforting grasp. The warmth of her touch almost undid him, but he once again refused to let grief overcome him.

"Virg, this isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong." Scott was surprised that his voice didn't shake.

His brother shook his head, never raising his eyes, and in an anguished tone, whispered, "I never checked on him. I should have checked on him."

Jeff ran one hand over his face, while the other continued rubbing his son's back. "It probably would not have made a difference if you had, son. Checking on your brother would have simply revealed this sorry mess quicker. It wouldn't have saved Gordon."

Scott heard the crack in his father's voice, but before he could respond, Alan was there, saying, "No, guys, listen. Johnny figured out that Gordy's been taken prisoner. We just have to go find him. He'll be okay. Honest."

Although Alan spoke with conviction, Scott could hear the plea. It brought home to Scott how young his baby brother really was. Since International Rescue had started, Alan had shown a great deal of maturity in handling his responsibilities. But the truth was, he was still a very young man, who in different circumstances would still be in school, worrying about girls and playing video games all night.

Scott was saved from having to reply by a tone from the intercom. "Scott? Can you and Dad come down to the lab, please?"

Punching a button on the wall, he replied, "On our way."

Scott looked back to find not only his father, but both brothers and his grandmother were standing in preparation to follow. Alarmed at what they might find, Scott held up his hand, "Uh, Grandma, why don't you stay here with Virg? We'll let you know if they've found anything."

Despite eyes reddened by grief, Virgil glared at his brother. He opened his mouth for a retort, but was stopped by his grandmother's sharp voice. "I understand your desire to protect your family from harsh reality, Scott, but I will not sit tamely by like some porcelain doll. If I've lost a grandson today, I'll see exactly how it happened, and the likes of you will not stop me."

The tiny woman marched out of the room, her head held high, the four men staring after here. After a moment, Alan broke the spell by moving past Scott, glancing at his eldest brother, and shrugging his shoulders.

Jeff followed and for a moment, Virgil and Scott just looked at each other. Clearing his throat, Scott asked, "You gonna hold up?"

The anger drained from Virgil's face to be replaced by sadness. "Yeah."

Scott looked away to keep from being overwhelmed. "Good. Let's go."

The two brothers followed Jeff down the hallway to an elevator that would deliver them to the laboratory. Alan had held the door for them and they all crowded aboard, their grandmother moving to stand between her son and oldest grandchild. Despite her brave words, Scott could feel her trembling beside him.

"Mom, you don't have to do this," Jeff ventured.

"I know, son. But I learned long ago that reality is seldom worse than imagination. I need to see what happened for myself, or I'll go insane thinking about it."

The elevator door opened, and Scott offered his arm. Ruth grasped it thankfully, leaning a bit on her tall grandson. As they entered the lab, Scott's eyes sought out John, and without a word being spoken, he knew that there would be no rescue of a kidnapped brother.

It was Brains who spoke. "Uh, we were able to access p-p-part of the damaged memory core. I'm, uh, afraid it is not good."

The scientist was looking at Ruth as he spoke, his concern clear on his face. "It… perhaps, uh… maybe you should wait upstairs, Mrs. Tracy…"

"No, Brains, that won't be necessary. Just show us what happened." Jeff spoke softly, and Scott swallowed hard. This was not going to be easy on any of them.

Brains turned back to a device hitting a switch that simultaneously lowered the lights and started a projector. He supplied a commentary to what they saw on the screen. "Well, as you uh, can see, the picture quality has been uh, seriously degraded. There is no, uh, timestamp, so we can't uh, be sure when this took place."

Brains paused the playback of the seemingly empty pod. "There is no shot of the uh, intruder entering, but if you'll look to the lower left, you'll see a shadow behind the number two pump." Here the scientist used a laser pointer to indicate the shadow. Scott raised an eyebrow. There was nothing to indicate it was the intruder.

"Okay, Brains, we see it." Jeff commented with a touch of impatience.

The scientist hesitated for a moment, then continued the playback. The view deteriorated for a moment, showing patches of white, then came back suddenly, only this time both Virgil and Gordon were visible. Virgil had paused at something Gordon was saying, then he nodded and headed for the elevator leading to the cockpit. Gordon continued folding and storing the rescue harnesses that they had utilized.

Brains again paused the playback. "Please let me warn you, the uh, attack is d-d-difficult to watch."

"Just get on with it." Virgil said in a dull flat tone.

Scott looked over at his brother, but his father had things in hand, standing next to Virgil, his arm wrapped around his shoulders. Brains nodded and started the playback again.

Scott watched as the shadow detached itself from the pump, becoming the man they had found in the hangar bay. Scott's jaw tightened as he realized the man was carrying a short black rod, like a tire iron. The man snuck up on Gordon, who apparently never heard a thing, and raising the rod, brought it down hard. Gordon dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The intruder kicked the downed aquanaut, but Gordon never twitched. The film eroded again just as the man reached down and started removing Gordon's sash.

Scott felt cold all over. The blow to Gordon's head had been a killing one, he was sure. He looked down at his grandmother, who stood, a hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. He pulled the diminutive woman into a hard embrace, not sure if it was for her or himself. He saw white faces all around the room.

He wasn't quite sure what to do next, but found he didn't have to say anything, as Brains spoke again. "Without the timestamp, and with the degradation of the uh, recording, it's impossible to say how much time passed before this next part. Uh, I've skipped over small, uh, bits of film that uh, don't show anything of uh, interest." Brains hesitated, not looking anyone in the eye. "I will say that, uh, Gordon never moves at any point, and I believe that he m-m-may have been killed instantly."

After another hesitation, Brains reached out suddenly and flipped a switch starting the playback once again. This time the scene showed Gordon lying on the deck clad only in his underwear. The intruder could be seen at the top of the frame, now wearing Gordon's uniform, working at a control panel. After a moment, one of the small hatches in the pod abruptly opened.

Virgil gasped. "Sonofabitch! I never got any alarm!"

Scott spared no glance at his brother, his eyes were glued on the scene playing out on the screen. He could tell that Thunderbird Two was in flight by the ruffling of the blue uniform as the man stared out the hatch. After a moment, the man moved over to Gordon's body, and picking it up, unceremoniously dumped it out the hatch.

"No!" Alan cried in true anguish. His legs gave out and he sat down hard on a nearby stool. Scott looked around for someone to help his youngest brother, but he had his hands full with his grandma, and his father was still holding onto Virgil. John was beyond helping anyone. Scott realized his middle brother had been sitting in a corner mute, never once looking up at the screen.

It was Ruth who spoke. She put a hand on Brains' sleeve. "Thank you, Brains." Turning to her son, she said, "Jeff, I don't want my grandbaby left alone out there. How will you find him?"

Scott's father turned a face tight with grief toward his family. "We'll find him. Brains, is there anyway to determine where Gordon would have fallen?"

Brains shrugged helplessly. "Uh, there is no, t-t-timestamp, Mr. Tracy. Without it, it's impossible to tell if… it… happened a minute or an hour into the uh, flight."

John suddenly sat up, a look of determination on his face. "We know the flight path. I can run a program to look for any mention of any John Does found."

"But what if Thunderbird Two was already over the ocean?" Alan's voice was barely above a whisper.

The question stopped everybody dead in their tracks. Working his jaw to relieve the ache, Scott finally replied, "Then he'll be where he'd want to be." Turning to Brains, he said, "Brains, listen, there isn't any timestamp on the security tape, but what about the flight recorder? That's a different system, right? Won't it show when that hatch opened?"

Both Brains and Virgil perked up, Virgil nodding. "Good thought. Come on, Brains, let's go check it out."

"Brains, before you go… Did you find any homing devices or communicators on the body?"

"No, uh, Scott."

Scott nodded, then turned to his father. "Dad, we have to figure this out. What the hell was this guy doing? What did he want?"

Jeff nodded. "I agree. You and Alan get to work. Find out who this man was, who he was working for."

"No." Scott and Jeff looked over at Alan. The young man wouldn't meet their eyes. "I'm going to Niagara Falls."

"Son, there's nothing there. We're going to need your help here."

"I don't care. I'm going to Niagara Falls." Without ever looking up, the young blond left the room.

Scott started to go after him, but was stopped by his grandmother. "Leave him be for now, honey."

"Grandma, if I leave him be, he's going to take a plane and cut out on us."

The gray-haired Tracy matriarch thought for a moment, then came to a decision. "I'll go with him."

"What? No, mother!"

"Jeff… dear one… Alan is going to go whether he has your approval or not. It's something he obviously feels he needs to do. Now, by the time we get there, he may realize that it won't do any good, or he may not, but either way he's going to need someone there with him. There is little enough I can do at a time like this, but I can be there for him. Let me do this."

Scott frowned. He wished he could say that he needed his grandma to be here for him and screw his little brother. He wished he could just break down and bawl like a baby and have her hold him in her arms like she had when he was a child. He sighed. He wished for a lot of things, but what he said was, "Don't be gone long, okay, Grandma?"

Ruth patted his hand, and headed out the door. Scott saw a fleeting glimpse of pain on his father's face and realized he wasn't the only one with wishes. Scott looked around the lab, and spied his brother John, hunched over his laptop, working at setting up his search program.

Walking over, he put his hand on his brother's shoulder, saying, "Come on, Johnny, we'll go work on this up in the roundhouse."

John flinched at the touch, and looked up with guilt-ridden eyes. "I'm sorry, Scott. I should never have told Alan that Gordon might be a prisoner. I mean, I knew that he…um…"

"Hey, it's okay. We're going to get through this. Alan will be all right. We'll let Grandma take care of him. But you and I, we're going to figure out who this guy was, and who he was working for, and then we're going to take care of business."

John's eyes widened at bit at the hardness that had entered Scott's tone, but all he did was nod, and close up his laptop. Scott led his brother and father out of the lab. While Jeff headed for the lounge, Scott and John headed for John's computer set up in the roundhouse.

Scott sat for a moment staring blankly at the screen, then got to work, pulling up an image of the intruder, and connecting with a face recognition program. He could hear John tapping away at his own computer. He sighed, wondering how they would survive.


	2. Psychics

Alan Tracy held on to the steering column of the speedy little jet as if his life depended on it. In some ways, it probably did. As long as he could concentrate on his flying, he didn't have to think about… things. His grandmother sat quietly beside him, a source of warmth that Alan wasn't sure he welcomed.

If he had been asked why he felt he needed to be in Niagara Falls, Alan wouldn't have known how to answer. He understood that Gordon was not there. He had almost accepted that his brother was gone. Almost. But there was a little niggle in his mind that refused to let him believe it.

It was a family known fact that Scott and Virgil were psychically linked. His great-something grandmother had been a psychic with proven ability as a water witch, able to locate underground water with nothing more than a willow twig. Alan had long believed that he and Gordon had also shared a link, something that Gordon adamantly denied.

The day that Gordon had had his hydrofoil accident, Alan had been tense and nervous even before that terrible phone call had come. He hadn't felt anything today, exactly, but still, he felt sure he would have known if his brother had died. And he was just as sure that the answer to where Gordon was, was to be found in Niagara Falls. He knew it in his bones.

He glanced over at his grandmother, sitting pale and teary-eyed next to him, and reached over to take her hand in his. "I'm sorry, Grandma."

"For what, sweetheart?"

"I know the last thing you need right now is to go running off with your crazy grandson on a wild goose chase, and I'm sorry to put you through it. But I'm really glad you're here with me."

Ruth lifted her grandson's hand to her cheek and with a sigh said, "That's what family is for, baby. You of course don't remember it, but the only thing that got your father through when your dear mother passed on was you boys. It's the rightful place of family to care for one another, especially at a time like this."

Tentatively, Alan asked, "Grandma… did you ever have a, you know, psychic experience? Like your grandma Ettie, I mean?"

"Well, when I was very, very young, I used to be able to charm birds out of the trees to sit and sing on my hand. Or at least, I've been so told. I don't remember it, but my own parents swore that I could do it. I don't rightly know if that was a psychic talent or not, but by the time I was four or five, I couldn't do it anymore."

Alan was surprised by the confession, never having heard that story before, and it almost distracted him from his purpose. "I never knew that."

"Well, it's not something I've ever bandied about. Why do you ask, honey?"

Alan took a long time before saying anything. The last thing he needed was a disparaging remark about his feeling, but if anyone was likely to believe him, it was his grandma. "You know how Scott can sometimes know what Virgil is thinking? Do you think that's psychic?"

"I suppose a psychologist could come up with some gobbledygook about subtle signals, but yes, I've always believed those two had some deeper connection that science can't explain away."

"Grandma, I know what we saw on that tape, but somehow, I just know it isn't true. I just know that if Gordy were dead, I'd feel it. I know it's not like the thing between Scott and Virgil, but that doesn't mean it isn't there." Alan let the words out in a rush, and by the end, was practically pleading for Ruth to believe him.

"Oh honey, I know you don't want it to be true, none of us do. But we can't turn our backs on reality, no matter how hard it is."

Alan's heart fell.


	3. Search Parameters

"Just because you want to know, doesn't automatically mean I'll be able to find out." John snapped in frustration. He'd been searching through the databanks of Interpol, WorldGov, and half a dozen countries looking for information on the murderous intruder who had devastated their lives. He hadn't had any luck so far, and Scott was getting impatient.

The eldest Tracy brother sat back and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know. Tell you what, why don't we take a break. We've been at this for hours, and I, for one, am hungry."

John stared at his computer, his eyes blurring. "I just can't believe he's…"

Scott started to answer, then shook his head, standing up. In a soft voice, he said, "Come on, let's go get something to eat."

Unable to answer, John shook his head, and turned back to his computer. Scott stood there for a moment, then turned to go. "I'll bring you something."

As soon as Scott was out of the room, John slumped at his desk. He was tired of being a Tracy, strong and brave in the face of adversity. What he really wanted to do was climb to the top of the island and howl his grief to the skies. He wanted to find a deep hole and crawl into it and curl up in a ball. He wanted… he wanted it to not be true.

The problem was, he was a Tracy, and the hard pragmatism of his forefathers wouldn't allow him to deceive himself, or run away from a problem. So, after a few moments, he squared his shoulders and settled down again to try yet another search parameter.

As he waited for the result, John decided to finish setting up the search pattern for the John Does that he'd suggested earlier. Although most of Thunderbird Two's flight plan was over the ocean, at least the first half hour or so was over the continental United States and Northern Mexico.

It seemed likely to John that the murderer would have gotten rid of the body sooner rather than later. He had to quash the traitorous responding thought that dumping over the ocean would insure no evidence of the crime.

He set the computer to find any mention in the news media or local police traffic of an unidentified male between twenty and thirty with head trauma. He programmed in a swath about five miles wide following Thunderbird Two's flight, then set the program running.

John barely had time to turn back to his primary computer, before the program chimed, indicating a hit. He looked at the report, and sighed. It was an INN report on the rescue at Niagara Falls. Swallowing hard against a lump in his throat, John turned back and continued his search for the identity of his brother's murderer.

He'd tried databases in America, Canada and Mexico, and a few of the Central American countries. Now he wanted to try a wild hunch. The man had been brown-skinned, and Scott had speculated that he was of Native American background. But the more John looked at the picture they had taken for the computer search, the more he thought the man might be Asian.

Knowing that the thug, known to them only as The Hood, had come from Malaysia, John sent his queries to police databases there, and in neighboring countries. His stomach clenched as the search ran. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be right or not.

Scott had said when they found out where the guy was from, that they would 'take care of business.' The Hood had always been a formidable foe, and while John would only feel relief if the man were out of the picture, he didn't want it to be at the risk of anyone else in the family.

His shoulders drooped when his program bore fruit. He had a positive match to a petty criminal from the Pekan district of Malaysia. Odd, but that was where Kyrano and Tin-Tin were from. He downloaded all of the information in the file, and printed out a hard copy.

Before he left to update his father, he did a double-check on the John Doe search. So far, the only thing the computer had found was the victim of the original rescue. Niagara Falls was the starting point, and it would take time even for his computers to sift through the information from across the country.


	4. The Hard Wait

_A/N: Geez, I can't believe I forgot to post a chapter yesterday! Sorry about that. For the holiday weekend, I think I post double chapters, starting tonight. Hope you'll all stick with me, and to those of you who have reviewed, thank you, you're the best!_

Jeff Tracy pushed away the plate his son had set before him. Food would not get past the hard knot of anger and grief that had taken up residence in his throat. He wanted to be doing something, but he was at the moment stymied.

He needed more information. Scott had informed him of the negative result on the identity search of his son's murderer, and Virgil and Brains had not returned yet from their check of Thunderbird Two's flight recorder.

He'd alerted International Rescue's Northern American agents, but now he could only wait until one resource or another bore fruit. Waiting was never easy. It always gave him too much time to think. And his mind kept supplying him with images of Gordon.

To distract himself, he looked across the desk at his eldest. Scott had insisted on bringing in some sandwiches for lunch, but he now sat staring at the food as if it were poisoned. "Scott…"

Scott looked up, and Jeff caught a glitter in his eyes that was quickly masked with a face of hard determination. "Yeah, Dad?"

The two men locked eyes, and neither of them knew what to say. They had a shared background of command. They'd each lost men under their command, Jeff in the Gulf War, Scott in the North African Conflict. They both also knew the pain of personal loss.

Jeff felt his jaw lock, and he swallowed hard. After a few moments, he nodded. Some of the hardness left Scott's eye as he understood exactly what his father was saying with that tight little nod. On impulse, he reached out and covered his father's hand with his own. "Yeah."

It was all that was said, but both men took both comfort and resolve from it. After a few more moments, Jeff sighed and picked up his sandwich, and Scott did too. When John walked in, they were both still chewing without tasting a thing. "Dad, Scott, I've got an identity on the intruder."

Both Jeff and Scott sat up, discarding the remains of their sandwiches. "Let's have it, son."

"His name is Malik Yahaya Weng. He's a thief from a place called Kampung Hulu Tering. That's Malaysia, the Pekan District." John said meaningfully. "From the police records, he's not exactly what I'd call an international level criminal. Mostly just pilfering neighbor's homes. No sign of violence before. I don't really get how he could have landed up in Niagara Falls with the technology to pull this off."

"The Hood." Scott said flatly.

John nodded, but Jeff replied coldly, "I want proof, not supposition. My intention is to insure nothing like this can happen again. I will not take the steps I intend without knowing for a fact that I am not mistaken."

John swallowed hard, and even Scott looked taken aback. Jeff refused to be daunted by their response. "If you boys will excuse me, I need to contact Kyrano."

Scott nodded curtly. "Okay, Dad. John and I will go see about getting you some proof."

Scott led his brother from the lounge, and Jeff reached out to his vidphone. Kyrano and his daughter, Tin-Tin, were on a well-earned vacation in Paris. Allowing the machine to auto-dial, he sat back and rubbed his temples.

"Hello? Oh, Mr. Tracy! How are you?" Tin-Tin smiled warmly.

"Hello, honey. I need to speak to your father."

Jeff couldn't bring himself to return the smile, and the young woman was instantly concerned. "Of course. He's just out on the balcony. Give me a moment."

Tin-Tin disappeared, and within a moment, Jeff's friend and manservant, Kyrano, appeared. "Mr. Tracy, what has happened?"

The man's soft concern brought Jeff close to losing it. Hardening his jaw, he said, "There's been a breach in security. A man, uh, attacked Gordon and succeeded in making it onto the island. John tells me he's a petty thief from a place called Kampung Hulu Tering."

Kyrano's visage did not change, but his voice was soft when he asked, "And Master Gordon?"

Jeff tried to say it, but his throat wouldn't allow it, and he just shook his head. Kyrano bowed his head. "I am most sorry. I will be home as soon as we can reach the airport."

Jeff shook his head, "No, old friend. I don't want you to change your plans. I just want your input on this thief. According to John, he's a house burglar with no background in violence. How could he land up in Niagara Falls with the means to foil Thunderbird Two's security?"

Kyrano smacked his lips, his throat gone dry. "The village you speak of is in a farming area. The people are simple people of the land. That is not to say that they are backward in any way. As you well know from your own background, even simple farmers can achieve great things. But I will say that the entire area is rife with bandits. If this man has fallen in with one of the more ruthless bandit chieftains, there is no limit to the evil that he could accomplish."

"All right," Jeff nodded. "Listen, I'll let you know when the… the memorial will be."

"Mr. Tracy," Kyrano spoke quickly to prevent Jeff hanging up. "Perhaps if I were to question this thief, I could discover who is behind this tragedy."

Jeff closed his eyes, and shook his head. "That won't be necessary. He chose to go down fighting. He's dead."

Kyrano raised an eyebrow, but only nodded. "We will leave within the hour."

Feeling suddenly exhausted, Jeff said simply, "All right."


	5. Developments

The first thing John did when he got back to his computers was to check the John Doe program. He knew that it could be days before anything came through, if anything ever did, but still, he was disappointed when the program flashed the negative results icon. Scott had come in behind him, and frowned. "What's that?"

Swallowing against the permanent knot in his throat, John replied, "It's that John Doe program I set up. It hasn't found anything yet."

Scott shook his head, "That's not surprising, Johnny. It's been less than twenty-four hours. There's a lot of empty country between New York and the West Coast. We'll just let it run. What I want now is to look at that town this Weng was from. I want to know everything about him, and the town and the surrounding area."

John nodded. "You think it's the Hood?"

"Yes." Scott's response was curt.

"Yeah." John said softly.

Scott looked up sharply at his brother. "You have something to say?"

John shook his head. "What can I say, Scott? This has been the worst day of my life, and it isn't going to get any better any time soon. I've apparently been laboring under a delusion that we stand for something better than revenge."

"Don't."

John looked over at the resolute face of his older brother. "Don't what?"

"Don't presume you understand. This isn't about revenge. This is about protecting the family. If we don't respond to this, the next time it could be Alan. Or Virgil. Or you or me. We can't afford to allow this to go unanswered."

"With guns."

"If that's what it takes, then yes, with guns. God, John, what are you thinking? Do you think this was an accident? 'Oops, I'm sorry I dropped your brother out a hatch after I bashed his brains in'? Do you think whoever is behind it all will just decide to stop?"

John shook his head sadly. "No. I'm not the naïve dreamer you think I am. That doesn't mean I have to condone murder."

Scott's eyes were narrowed to slits. "He fired first. We were defending ourselves."

John rubbed his face with both hands. "Scott, I don't want to fight. I don't have answers. Please, let's just not fight, okay?"

Scott checked, and sighed, "Yeah, you're right. We're both exhausted. I'm sorry, Johnny. I'm sorry."

"Me too. Scott, I just don't want to face this…"

"Yeah, I know."

"Hey, we found something on the flight recorder." Virgil stuck his head in.

Both brothers looked up. "What have you got, Virg?"

Virgil held up a print out, and led the way toward the main house. "The hatch was opened just as I was lifting off. Alan was right, if we're going to find the body, it's going to be somewhere in New York."

Unnoticed by Scott and Virgil, John had stopped dead at the news. As his brothers headed for the lounge, he stood breathing hard. He turned back to his computer, and pulled up that first hit the John Doe program had come up with. Looking over the data, he felt his breath leave in a rush. Pulling out his cell phone, he hit a number on the speed dial. "Alan? Listen, don't tell Grandma, but I want you to check something out for me."


	6. Interlude

Gordon Tracy lay very still, his eyes squeezed shut. The sounds around him were too loud, the lights too bright. He felt as if he were in a nightmare. It was hard to think.

He couldn't remember how he had come to this pitiful state for the life of him. His last coherent memory was of heading out with Virgil in Thunderbird Two. There had been some kind of rescue, but he couldn't remember any of the details.

He had a vague memory of struggling in water, but he couldn't be sure if it had actually happened, or if he had imagined it. Any real attempt at thinking brought splintering pain to his head.

More frightening than spotty memory, was the fact that he was all alone. When he had awakened in the hospital, he had immediately looked around for his brothers. He assumed that Scott, at the very least, was in the area, but when the nurse started asking him his name, he had nearly hyperventilated in his panic.

He didn't know what to do, what to say. Did they know he was with International Rescue? If they did, he didn't dare use his real name. But if he didn't, how would his family find him? In his confusion, he landed up not saying anything at all, and the nurse had called a doctor in.

Not sure what to do, Gordon decided his best bet was just to stay silent until he could think more clearly. The doctor had come in, and attempted to elicit a response, but Gordon just closed his eyes.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the hospital. In some ways, it felt as if it had been days. Gordon was no stranger to pain, and had in fact had concussions before, but this felt like something worse. In addition to the pain in his head, his shoulder and left arm ached in a way that spoke of broken bones.

Telling himself he just had to ride it out, Gordon tried to relax enough to sleep. After a while, he slipped into a nether world of swirling mist.


	7. Discovery

Alan Tracy had never been so frightened in his life. When his brother John had called, telling him to go to Mercy Hospital and check on a John Doe they had there, he'd left the hotel without a word. He'd broken just about every traffic law in New York in his need to get to the hospital in question.

Luck had been with him, and no cop had spotted him and he had made it in no time at all. He'd rushed in, and practically took off the head of the admissions officer who took more time than it had taken him to get there to tell him the John Doe was in the critical care ward on the third floor.

He couldn't stand still long enough to wait for the elevator, and had gone up the adjacent staircase, taking the steps three at a time. But now that he was outside of the ward in question, he'd come to a flat stop. His heart told him that if he opened the door, and didn't find his brother waiting for him on the other side, that he'd have to admit to the impossible, that his brother was dead.

Alan wasn't sure he could face that. Suddenly he wished he had brought his grandma with him. He stood staring at the door, unable to move. "Can I help you?"

Alan startled like a cat, jumping and spinning to face the owner of the soft voice. The middle-aged nurse reached out a hand to steady him. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you looking for someone?"

Alan's voice practically squeaked when he responded. "Uh, yeah. My brother. He's uh, missing, and I heard you had an unidentified patient. I wanted to see if it could be my brother."

The nurse nodded, her face full of compassion. "I understand. We do have that patient here, but before we go in, I want to warn you, he's had a tough time, and his face is badly bruised. He may not look much like what you expect your brother to look like."

Alan stiffened his spine. "I understand. Can I see him?"

"Sure. Let's go take a look."

The woman led the way into the darkened room. There were four beds. In the two immediately visible were elderly men, each surrounded by machines. Alan automatically catalogued the one as a heart patient, and the other as liver failure, evidenced by the yellowish tinge to his skin.

They rounded a curtain, and the nurse stood back, a questioning look on her face. Alan stared at the injured man in the bed, for a moment before his spine stiffened and he nodded once. "I'll need to see the doctor in charge."

The nurse's eyebrows lifted. "You're sure this is your brother?"

Alan speared her with a look. "Yes," he replied simply. "Please go get that doctor now. I need to inform my father."

If the nurse was surprised at the sudden change in Alan's demeanor, she didn't let on. With a nod, she said, "All right. Please don't use a cell phone in this room. There's the land line on the table. I'll get Dr. Gupta right away."

Alan waited until she was gone, then raised his communicator. Unlike a cell phone, Brains had designed the communicators not to interfere with other electrical equipment. "Alan Tracy to John Tracy, come in John."

The words were barely past his lips before John was there, pale-faced and fearful. "Well?"

Alan nodded briefly, "You were right, Johnny. He's in bad shape, but he's alive."

His brother gasped, and covered his mouth. Alan could see a sudden glisten in his eyes. Alan couldn't bring himself to smile just yet, so he nodded. "Listen, I've got to tell Dad. Can you do me a favor? Can you get a limo over to the Grand Hotel to pick up Grandma and get her over here?"

"Absolutely. Will she be out front, or will they need to go to her room?"

Alan licked his lips. "Um, well, that was the other part of the favor. I was hoping you'd call her and tell her. I, uh, kinda left in a hurry, and I didn't tell her where I was going."

Already feeling better, John smirked, "Chicken."

The elation of finding his brother finally started to sink in, and Alan found he could grin back, "Hey, you're the one who told me not to tell her, the least you can do is call her up for me. Besides, you're seven thousand miles away, she can barely blister your ears at this distance."

"Actually, we're on our way to you right now. As soon as Virgil told Dad the hatch was opened in New York, Dad decided we needed to be there. I'm at the back of the jet, in case, you know, the news wasn't good."

"Ah, cool. Once Dad knows the score, you can, like, arrange for a better hospital. This place is okay, but it has zero security, and I have no clue on whether the doctors are any good."

"Call Dad. I'll take care of the rest."

"FAB."

The brothers disconnected, but before Alan could place the second call, the door to the ward opened, and a short dark doctor entered. Wanting as much info for his father as he could get, Alan strode forward, reaching to shake the man's hand. "Doctor Gupta? My name is Alan Tracy. I understand you've been caring for my brother, Gordon, here."

"Yes, Mr. Tracy. Please come with me, we will find a place to talk."

Alan shook his head. "Just tell me here, Doc. I'm not leaving my brother."

The doctor pursed his lips, glancing at the other beds. Seeing the other patients were quiet, he took Alan by the arm, and moved over to the window. "Do you know where your brother was?"

Alan shook his head guilelessly, "No. He and I were in New York on business. He decided he wanted to see the Falls. I was watching the news this morning, and I saw there was an accident yesterday up here that International Rescue was called in for. When I couldn't get in touch with him, I came searching for him."

The doctor nodded. "Yes. The tour boat capsized. Your brother was apparently on board. He was found some way down river by a fisherman."

Needing to know what the locals were thinking, Alan feigned confusion, "Wait, I thought that International Rescue saved them all. Gordy wasn't with them?"

"You must understand, the waters below the Falls are very turbulent. It was believed that International Rescue did find all of the victims, but your brother was somehow washed down stream."

"Huh. Just his luck. Okay, so how bad is it, Doc?"

"Your brother is suffering from a compound break of the clavicle, and spiral break of the left humerus, but the most serious injury is a linear fracture of the occipital skull. This means…"

Alan held up a hand, "Doctor, I've had First Responder training. I know the terms. How bad is the skull fracture?"

The doctor frowned slightly. "It did not seem life threatening at first. There was some minor swelling of the brain, but not more than we expected. However, when your brother first regained consciousness some time ago, he was unable to speak. Now, it may simply pass, or it could be a more serious indication of brain damage. We won't know until we're able to run more tests."

Alan grimaced, his stomach clenching at the thought of his brother being permanently damaged. The doctor went on. "For now, we are more concerned with infection. Your brother swallowed a great deal of water, and pneumonia is a concern. The bruising that you see extends down his chest and abdomen. We are watching for signs of organ damage, but as you may know, that may not become apparent for several more hours."

Alan nodded. "Okay, thank you, Doctor."

"You are very welcome. Now, Mr. Tracy, if you will come with me, our admissions office needs information."

Alan shook his head. "I told you, I'm not leaving my brother. I've already called my family, and my grandmother will be here shortly. Once she's here, I'll go check in with admissions."

The doctor stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. If you need anything, please feel free to ask."

"Yeah, thanks, Doc." Alan turned away from the man, dismissing him, as he looked back down on his brother.

As soon as the doctor was out of the room, Alan once again raised his communicator. "Alan Tracy to Jeff Tracy. Dad?"

"Alan, good. Listen, son, your brothers and I are on our way to you. We have reason to believe Gordon was dumped in the area of the Falls. I want you to get onto the police, and get a search started. Brains believes a fifty-mile radius should do the trick."

"Not necessary, Dad. I've already found him." Alan had to talk over his father to get a word in edgewise.

"Now, your grandmother is going… What did you say?"

With his father's full attention, Alan smiled. "I've already found him. I'm here in his room at Mercy Hospital in Niagara. He's hurt, but he's alive."

With sounds of astonishment coming from Scott and Virgil, Jeff's eyes widened. After a moment, he said in a shaky voice, "Scott, take over. Let me see him, son."

Alan nodded, and pointed his communicator at the still figure in the bed. "He's got a broken arm and collarbone, and a hairline skull fracture. He's pretty much bruised all over. Doctor said he was found in the water, downstream from the Falls, so they've all just assumed he was in the boat accident. We're secure in that regard. They are watching him for pneumonia and internal injuries, but the big concern is the head injury. Apparently when he woke up a while ago, he couldn't talk. The doctors aren't sure if it's a permanent injury or not."

Alan couldn't see any reason to sugarcoat the truth. For now, his family would have to be content with one miracle at a time. Finishing his narration, he faced the communicator again. "Dad, I'm sure these doctors are competent, but…"

Jeff nodded. "I'll put in a few calls. Son, don't leave your brother until we get there, understand? It's unlikely that anybody will try anything, but I'm not taking chances. We'll be onsite in… six and a half hours. Is your grandmother all right?"

"I'm not sure. I left her at the hotel while I checked the hospitals. I've sent a car for her, but I haven't talked to her yet. She should be here any minute now."

"All right. Don't let her exhaust herself. Keep in touch."

"FAB, Dad."

He disconnected, but the communicator started flashing immediately. He started to lift it again, but aborted the movement when a nurse entered the ward. Alan frowned, realizing he had been left alone for almost half an hour. Considering this was the critical care ward, he felt the people charged with his brother's care were criminally negligent.

He watched as the nurse checked each of the elderly men before moving to Gordon's bedside. His anger caused him to snap, "Nice of you to bother."

"Excuse me?" The nurse frowned.

"You've left all three of these patients alone for over 30 minutes. The sign over the door says critical care. Unless I'm mistaken that means they deserve more of your attention than you apparently care to share."

The nurse stood up, red in the face. "You're Mr. Tracy, right? Well, let me explain to you. See that red light up there? That's the camera. See these electrodes here? These are all hooked up to monitors at the nursing station. Whether I am standing next to the bed, or sitting at the station, my patients are monitored twenty-four seven, and I would appreciate it, if you would not make judgements about things you know nothing about."

Alan stood stiff-faced as the nurse put him in his place. She was out the door before he could apologize. Sighing, he looked at his communicator, and said, "Hey, Virg, you okay?"

"Why didn't you answer? Is something wrong?"

"No, there's no change. A nurse came in is all. What can I do for you?"

Virgil seemed a loss for words, and Alan just nodded. "Okay, Gordon Cam is on the air."

Alan again directed his camera at his brother in the bed. The fact that Gordon hadn't moved at all was a niggle of worry, but Alan knew Virgil would be better for seeing his brother with his own eyes. After holding the communicator focused on his brother's face, Alan scanned it over to the monitor. "As you can see, the oxygenation is good. The heart rate is strong. Minor fever, but they are keeping an eye on that. Doc says he's bruised all over his body. Wanna take a gander?"

Alan moved his hand as if to lift the sheet covering his brother. Virgil growled, "Knock it off, Alan. So, he's really doing okay?"

"Yeah, well, as you can see, he's hooked up to all the monitors in the world, and none of them are beeping, so I'd have to say, he's doing okay."

"Thanks, Al. Listen, Dad's got TE security coming up to take care of things. It's already out on the wire services that he's there."

"That quick? Geez, I haven't even filled out the paperwork for the admission. How can they know he's THAT Gordon Tracy?"

Virgil shook his head. "Not sure. From the looks of it, they aren't sure themselves, but you can bet someone will show up sooner or later to check."

"Yeah, okay. So, can I expect a call from Scott now?"

Virgil chuckled. "I think you're safe if you need to make a pit stop. He's flying while Dad's on the phone. Never knew this little old executive jet could break the sound barrier."

Alan smiled. "Tell him I could get more speed out of her."

Virgil just looked at him, then responded, "You can tell him yourself. Take care of Gordon for me."

"You've got it."

Alan signed off, then looked around the room, and found the ubiquitous hard plastic chair in a corner. He pulled it over to his brother's bed, and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him. He took Gordon's hand and just sat quietly.

When the door opened moments later, his head shot up, and he jumped up, ready to fend off any and all reporters. But the visitor stepping tentatively into the room was his grandmother. "Grandma! He's over here."

Alan moved quickly to escort the older woman to the chair. Ruth's eyes were red-rimmed, evidence of her tears. Alan reassured her anxiously, "He's okay, Grandma. I mean, he's going to be. He's banged up, and he's got some broken bones, but he'll be fine, you'll see."

Ruth ran a finger under her eye to wipe away an errant tear, then smiled at her grandson. "Baby, I'll never doubt you again."

The elderly woman turned and placed her soft hand on her grandson's forehead, the movement turning to a gentle caress of the unbruised side of Gordon's face. Her breath hitched at the sight of the bruises and bandages.

Alan stood back, but felt he had to speak. "He's got a broken arm and collarbone and a hairline skull fracture. It's no worse than that time Virg got hurt playing football. You know how tough Gordy is. If he can survive a four hundred mile-an-hour hydrofoil crash, this is going to be a piece of cake."

Ruth turned back to her youngest grandson. "Alan, you settle down now. I can see you're trying to convince yourself as much as me. We'll just take this one day at a time."

His grandmother's words calmed Alan like a soothing balm. He took a deep breath and relaxed. "You're right, of course. Um, you know Dad's on his way, right? Okay, I just talked to Virgil, and he says there's already a report on the news wire that Gordon is here. I need to go fill out admission papers, but I don't want you to have to deal with any sneaking reporters. If anybody shows up, just walk away, okay? I'll deal with them when I've done the paperwork."

Ruth eyed her grandson shrewdly. "Sweetheart, did you promise your father that you would stay with Gordon until he got here?"

"Well, yes, but I'm not going far, just to the admissions office."

"No. You stay. Now that I've seen him for myself, I will go take care of the paperwork."

Alan was torn. He really wanted to be in the room in case Gordon woke up. But on the other hand, he felt a strong sense of responsibility, as if having been the only one who never doubted his brother's survival, he was now somehow obligated to make sure he was well taken care of.

Ruth resolved her grandson's dilemma by simply walking out of the room. Alan frowned and huffed in annoyance, but turned back to his brother. He once more sat down, and took Gordon's hand. It bothered him that his brother never so much as twitched a finger. He stared at their intertwined hands for a moment then looked up at a soft sound from one of the other beds.

The elderly heart patient was awake and staring at Alan with watery blue eyes over a full respirator mask. Alan smiled to acknowledge the contact, but the man was obviously out of it, his eyes remaining unfocused. Within moments, the nurse that Alan had offended was at the man's beside, speaking loudly to him, trying to elicit any kind of response.

The man, despite his open eyes, gave no indication of consciousness, and after a several attempts, the nurse stilled, looking down on the man with real sadness. She patted his hand with real regret, then turned to the other elderly man, checking him carefully, straightening the pillow, and a wisp of the man's hair.

Alan saw what he hadn't before, a caring woman who did her best for her charges. When she finished with the man, she moved stiffly, with apparent resolve, to Gordon's bedside, never once looking up at Alan. Alan watched her then sighed, "Excuse me, Miss…"

The nurse never took her eyes from Gordon, every inch of her body showing her annoyance, but she bent enough to respond shortly. "Grainger."

Alan wasn't much of one for groveling, but under the circumstances, he swallowed his pride. "Miss Grainger. I want to apologize for before. You were absolutely right. I was sticking my nose in. For what it's worth, I'm heartily ashamed of myself. I just… he's my brother, and… well, I thought he was… Aw, crap. I'm sorry. You were right and I was wrong."

The woman looked up and speared Alan with a look, as if judging his sincerity. Suddenly she relaxed and nodded. "I accept your apology, Mr. Tracy. I probably shouldn't have taken such offense. I guess I'm a bit tired."

Alan smiled. "I understand tired. I'm pretty wiped myself. Although, I hope you'll call me Alan. My dad and brothers are coming, and if you try Mr. Tracy on all of us, you'll cause mass confusion."

Nurse Grainger smiled. "All right, Alan. You can call me Deanie."

"Deanie?"

The woman scrunched up her face. "Yes. My parents stuck me with Gurine, and my younger brother pronounced it 'Dean' when we were young, and it stuck."

That bit of personal information eased the awkwardness between them and Alan relaxed, nodding. "Okay, Deanie. Um, I might as well let you know now, my dad is Jeff Tracy, of Tracy Enterprises, and we're likely to have Gordon moved to a private hospital as soon as possible." Seeing incipient anger blossom in the nurse's eyes, he hurried on, "Not because of any lack of care here. Far from it. It's just that once the press finds out Gordon is here, you'll be swamped with paparazzi. Not good for the other patients, you see?"

Deanie's eyebrows climbed. She looked down at the bed, and a light of recognition dawned. "Oh my God, your brother is Gordon Tracy, the swimmer."

Alan smiled ruefully, "Yeah. Olympic gold and all that. But as far as I'm concerned, he's just Gordon Tracy, the brother. And my best friend."

The nurse still had stars in her eyes. "And you say your father will be coming here?"

"Oh yes, Jeff Tracy, the astronaut, is on his way as we speak. As are Scott Tracy, the fighter pilot, Virgil Tracy, the engineer and John Tracy, the astronomer. For the record, I'm Alan Tracy, the race car driver. But you know, we're all really just people."

Deanie's smile turned wry. "You have to put up with a lot of star-struck fans, huh?"

Alan shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes. It's okay, though. You can ask my dad for his autograph if you want. He's pretty good about that, especially when he realizes you've been taking care of Gordy for us."

"That's okay, I'm over it." Deanie twitched the blanket covering Gordon one more time, then with a proprietary pat, nodded to Alan and headed for the door. "I'll check back in a while."

"Okay, thanks." Alan watched her leave, deciding he liked the woman. Still, he hoped she wouldn't capitalize on the information she now had by calling the local news. Alan had learned long ago, that you could never be sure how people would react to the presence of a celebrity. He looked over at his brother, and rolled his eyes.


	8. Mea Culpa

"We're coming in to land. You boys buckle up back there."

Virgil Tracy obediently tightened the seatbelt that held him firmly to his seat. His brother John appeared from the rear of the plane and sat next to him, buckling his own seatbelt. Virgil looked over at his younger brother and frowned. "What were you doing back there?"

With a tired grin, John responded, "Sending some red herrings out to keep the press busy."

Virgil forced a smile, nodding, then turned away to look out the window. The family jet was dropping precipitously out of the sky to a runway far below, a sure sign that Scott was still at the controls. Virgil watched as the ground seemed to rush up to meet them. Although his stomach dropped, he had absolute trust in his brother's piloting skills.

He could feel John's eyes upon him, but he couldn't bring himself to acknowledge his brother. He didn't want to hear the reassurances, the disclaimers that he wasn't to blame. If he'd checked on Gordon even once on the flight back, they would have known about the intruder.

It wasn't just the torment of thinking Gordon was dead. It was that a snake had been brought into their Eden at his doing. What if the man had gotten out of the hangar? What if he had come across his grandma, or Brains, or his dad?

As guilty as he felt about Gordon's injury, he was in agony over the thought of what could have happened. His complacency could have cost him his family, there was no doubt in his mind. And he had no doubt that the rest of his family realized it. They might not blame him to his face, but the thoughts had to be there.

He felt like he was on a treadmill of guilt and pain, and he couldn't get off. He couldn't allow himself to get off. As the plane taxied to a parking space, where Virgil could see a limo already waiting, he realized he couldn't get into that car. He couldn't face the silent accusation.

The plane rolled to a halt, and beside him John popped to his feet, obviously anxious to get to the hospital. Virgil felt like he couldn't move. "Hey, Virg, get the lead out! We gotta get moving."

With a bare glance at his brother, Virgil shook his head. "You guys go ahead. I'll make some arrangements and follow along."

"What arrangements? What do you think I've been doing for the last three thousand miles? Everything is all arranged. Now, come on, you're holding us up."

Virgil felt his jaw tighten to the point of cracking. "I have my own arrangements to make."

All of Virgil's muscles were so tightly wound that he feared he would explode if John were so much as to touch him. He refused to look up, and after an endless moment, John heaved an exasperated sigh and moved toward the door.

Virgil could hear his father and brothers talking through the open door, though the words were not loud enough to hear. He desperately wanted them to leave, but when a few minutes passed, and he heard the sound of the limousine starting its engine then pulling away, his heart fell into his shoes.

Without the need to put up a front for his family, Virgil's shoulders slumped and he dropped his head to his hands. He would have wept if he could have. The last two days had been among the worst in his life, and at the moment, he couldn't see anyway to go forward.

Every hour, every minute, from the moment his father had told him of the intruder had seemed an eternity to him. And now was no different. He sat hunched over for a lifetime, grieving for what he had lost, what he had almost lost, what he could have lost. Though there were no tears, he wept silently in his mind.

Exhausted, he finally felt his tense body ease, if only a bit. It was then that he realized he was not alone. He could make out the soft sound of breathing. His jaw tightened again. He should have known better than to think that Scott would leave him alone. He raised his head, and sucked in a breath as his eyes met those of his father.

Jeff sat quietly in the seat facing him, and Virgil swallowed hard, drawing himself upright. "Dad…uh, what are you doing here?"

His eyes deep with compassion, his father replied, "Did you think I would leave you alone?"

Virgil looked away. "Gordon needs you."

"All of my boys need me, son."

Virgil waited for his father to say something more, but the elder Tracy just sat quietly with those compassion-filled eyes boring holes into his soul. Virgil tried to maintain his silence, but eventually his shook his head violently. "Go ahead and say it, Dad. This was all my fault."

"All right, if that's what you want. It's all your fault."

The words stabbed like knives into Virgil's heart, but his father wasn't finished. "It was also all my fault for not having the right procedures in place. It's all Brains' fault for not having unimpeachable security. It's all Scott's fault for not keeping a close enough eye on Thunderbird Two while you were working the rescue. It was John's fault, it was Alan's fault, hell, it was Gordon's fault. He should have been more aware of his surroundings, after all."

Virgil shook his head in denial. "Dad, that bastard made it to the island because of me."

"Yes, he did. And believe me, I am aware of all of the scenarios that could have played out from there. All of them." Virgil risked a glance and saw the haunted look on his father that he knew had been on his own face for the last two days.

Jeff caught his eye, wordlessly demanding his son's attention. "The question is, how do we deal with this knowledge? Son, I understand the pain. God knows I've had that pain, now, and before with your mother. You might remember I didn't handle that time very well. But what got me through it then, and what will get me, and you, and your brothers through it now, is the knowledge that we can learn from this, and make sure it never happens again."

Virgil frowned, and considered his father's words. Jeff gave him a minute, then said gruffly. "I'll want a report on what steps we need to take regarding Thunderbird Two's security. I want to know exactly how that man got close enough to foul the security sensors. I want you to work with Brains to see to it that it will not happen again, understood?"

With the tightness in his jaw loosening, Virgil was able to nod, "Yes, sir."

"All right. Let's go see your brother. Then I'll want you to take your grandmother back to the hotel, and get some sleep. We'll be moving Gordon to Inskip Sanatorium in the morning, and neither Scott nor I will be in any fit shape to drive."

Virgil nodded. The sanatorium was very exclusive, very private, with a world-class medical staff. It was located in the Poconos, and had associated guest cottages for anxious families. It was as much a high-end resort as a medical facility. When Gordon had been sequestered there after his hydrofoil accident, the family had been able to take solace in the surroundings. "All right, Dad. But I want to see him tonight."

"Goes without saying," Jeff said gruffly. He cocked his head at a sound outside the still open door of the jet. "That'll be our ride. Shall we?"

Feeling utterly exhausted, but more at peace, Virgil stood, "Yeah, let's go."


	9. Awakening

Scott sat up from his slouch and stretched his back. He looked across the high hospital bed to where his father sat, slumped over, head on the bed, fast asleep. A glance at his watch, and quick mental calculation told him it was after 3am.

Scott stared at his sleeping brother. The bruises on his face were just starting to yellow. Although he knew from the monitors that Gordon was doing okay, he couldn't stop his hand from moving to that face, tracing the bruises, feeling the warmth of the skin.

It had been a very long day, and one filled with emotional upheaval. The utter shock he had felt when Alan had blithely announced that Gordon was not lost to them after all had been no less gut-wrenching than those first few minutes after he realized what the presence of the intruder on the base had meant.

He'd been running on adrenaline for almost two days, not allowing himself to think, only forcing himself to act. It was the only way he'd been able to keep himself sane. Worry about the family, grief for his brother, fear for the future had all been pressed ruthlessly aside in favor of finding out the why and wherefore of the intrusion.

But now, in the wee hours of the morning, there was nothing to do except wait. And think. When they had landed at the airport and John had announced that Virgil had refused to come, Scott felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his body. He couldn't desert his brother, but he couldn't stay either. Not when staying kept him from his little brother's side.

He'd started to hyperventilate when his father had ordered him into the car, saying he and Virgil would be along shortly. He'd locked eyes with his father, and calmed down immediately, the unspoken reminder that he wasn't in this alone a balm on his tired soul. He climbed into the backseat of the car and listened as John used his laptop to order another car to come to the airport.

"Scott?" Scott had come out of a half daze in the backseat of that limo, and seen John looking… guilty. He raised an eyebrow, and John swallowed before speaking. "I, uh, that is… Scott, I'm sorry. I should have caught that hatch opening. If I'd been paying enough attention, we could have been on top of this before that guy made it to the island."

Scott sat staring at his brother for a moment, shocked. The same kind of thoughts had been going through his own mind. If he'd been paying close enough attention, the intruder would never have gotten close enough to hurt Gordon in the first place.

He swallowed against his dry throat and said, "Okay, here's the thing. We can all wallow in self-pity and cry mea culpa into our beer, or we can get over ourselves and figure out ways to prevent this from happening again. For me, I intend to fix this so I never have to feel this way again. What are you going to do?"

The challenge had brought John up and the guilt in his eyes was replaced by determination. "Yeah. You're right. Thanks."

"No problem. Let me say this, though. You've done a great job since it happened. You found out who that guy was, you tracked down where Gordon was… Oh yeah, I realize it was you who sent Alan to that hospital. And you've worked your tail off getting things taken care of here. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

John had eventually nodded, and Scott knew his brother would be all right. Later in the hospital, when his father had arrived with Virgil, Scott had relaxed further. Virgil was looking as exhausted as he felt, but the shattering tightness was gone, and Scott knew that his father had been able to get through to him.

When Alan had turned mulish about going to the hotel with Virgil and their grandmother, it was Virgil who had convinced him. He said sweetly that it was fine for him to stay, but in the morning, when they followed the ambulance to the Inskip Sanatorium, it'd be Virgil driving as he'd be the only one fresh enough to do it.

Scott allowed a tiny smile as he remembered the conflict on his youngest brother's face before he'd grudgingly given in, and gone to get some sleep. As soon as the young man had left, John had whipped out his laptop, and at Scott's questioning raised eyebrow, said wryly, "We need to rent more than one car. There's no way Al is going to give up the driver's seat, and there are other control freaks here who will need to be considered."

"Meaning me?"

John snorted. "Meaning you and Dad. And me too. If we're going to be there for any length of time, we're going to need wheels."

Scott nodded, and shortly thereafter, John had left for the hotel, saying he needed to crash. Scott and Jeff had discussed John's comment about staying long. Scott knew that his father didn't want to stay any longer than absolutely necessary, feeling the security on the island was far better despite recent events.

Scott agreed with him in theory, but knew the reality would be dictated by Gordon's injury. Although Tracy Enterprises had pioneered stable pressure airplanes, making it possible for head injury patients to travel even long distances in safety, no one in the family would risk any further pain for the red headed aquanaut. Scott and Jeff had agreed that Gordon would stay put until they were absolutely sure the transport home would do no additional harm.

Eventually, the two men fell silent, and Jeff fell asleep. Now Scott sighed, wishing his brother would wake up. It didn't seem a likely event, given how deeply he slept. Scott looked behind himself and lowered his aching body into the chair. He looked up again only to see Gordon blinking, trying to bring his eyes to focus.

Scott jumped up so quickly that the chair went flying. He leaned into his brother's line of sight, and said softly, "Hey, you waking up there?"

His brother winced at his voice. "How can I sleep with you yelling at me?"

Scott felt a wave of relief wash through him. The doctors had been very cautious, saying there might be brain damage because Gordon hadn't been able to speak before. "Sorry, squirt. I guess I can assume your head hurts?"

"It'd have to be a shitload better to only be hurting. Where'd you get the civvies? Who's watching One?"

"One's back home. I came in the family jet."

For a moment, Gordon's eyes glazed in panic. "Why'd you go home? Is Virgil all right? What happened?"

"Hey, hey, calm down, everything and everybody's all right, okay? You just take it easy."

"No, I want to see Virgil. Where's Virgil?"

Scott had to put a hand to Gordon's uninjured shoulder for fear the young man would try to sit up. Before he could say anything, Jeff lifted his head, "Gordon?"

Gordon was working himself into a full-blown panic. "Dad? What are you doing here? Where's Virgil, Dad? What happened to Virgil?"

"Calm down, son, your brother is fine. You were injured, but only you, and you're going to be fine." Jeff moved in so that he filled Gordon's line of sight.

The door opened, and a nurse came hustling over. Scott said, "See, now you've got the nurses in a tizzy. Virgil's at a hotel getting some sleep. He'll be here in the morning. You just take it easy."

The nurse insinuated herself between Scott and his brother, and he had to bite his lip to keep from snapping at her. She smiled down at Gordon as she injected medication into his IV. "Your father is right. Your brother Virgil was here earlier along with your brothers John and Alan and your grandmother. Here, let me do this… There, is that better?"

Gordon, who'd begun to calm at his father's words, let out a sigh, and closed his eyes against the newly fluffed pillow and fresh dose of painkiller. "Yes, thank you."

The nurse paused, then realizing things were in hand, did a quick check of the other two beds before leaving the room. Gordon cracked open an eye, "She's gone. Tell me what happened, Dad, I need to know."

"Why don't we leave that discussion for the morning, son. For now, just rest."

Gordon opened both eyes, "No, Dad, Scott, please… I need to know. I woke up here all alone. When the doctors asked me questions, I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if they knew I was with International Rescue or what. I didn't know what to say…"

"Easy, boy, take it easy." Jeff held tightly to his son's hand. Scott let out a pained sigh. His brother's confession broke his heart.

Scott could tell Jeff was agonizing over what to tell his brother, so he nodded, saying. "All right, Gordon, you were attacked at a rescue site. You were attacked from behind while you were loading up after the rescue. The bastard got on board Thunderbird Two and we didn't realize it until he tripped the alarms in Thunderbird Two's hangar. Virgil had no idea you weren't onboard."

Despite the obvious pain, Gordon's eyes widened. "Wow."

"Yeah. Wow," Scott said ironically. "Now, settle down and rest. You have a busy day ahead of you tomorrow."

"I do?"

Jeff nodded, "We're moving you to Inskip tomorrow, son."

What little color Gordon's face had drained away. "No."

Jeff shook his head. "Son, this hospital is not secure. We're just going to move you until you're well enough to come home. Just a few days, that's all."

"You're not listening to me, Dad. The answer is no. I'm not going to that place."

Jeff sighed. "We'll talk about it in the morning, son. For now, just relax and try to sleep."

Gordon looked over at Scott, the plea obvious in his eyes. "Tell you what. We'll wait until Dr. Halvorsen has a look at you, okay? We'll see what he says, then we'll talk about our options."

Jeff frowned, but seeing the relief in Gordon's eyes relented. "All right, we'll do that, but now, you need to rest. You know what your grandma says, sleep is the best medicine."

"She's really here?" Gordon asked wistfully.

"Yes, and she'll be here at the crack of dawn, so close your eyes now."

Finally reassured, Gordon slowly eased into sleep, helped, no doubt, by the painkillers in the IV. When he was sure his son was asleep, Jeff looked over at Scott, "He's going to Inskip."

Sighing, Scott looked his father in the eye. "Dad, there are other secure hospitals just as good. Inskip has nothing but bad memories for him, you know that."

"And you know that those other hospitals are all at least a thousand miles away. We know the doctors and staff at Inskip. Despite your brother's memories, it's the best place for him, and I'll expect you to back me up on this."

Scott felt a tickle of ire. "I promised my brother we would discuss options tomorrow, Dad, and that's what we're going to do. If Inskip is the best option, I will talk to him about it."

The two men faced off across the bed, neither willing to back down. Despite his obvious anger at Scott's insubordination, it was Jeff who finally eased back. "We're both very tired, son. I believe this is a conversation that we had best leave until tomorrow."

Scott nodded curtly. "Agreed, Dad. You want to head over to the hotel and get a couple of hours sleep?"

"No, you go ahead, son. Despite what John said, I can sleep on the way to the hospital. I'm no control freak."

The pious statement brought a short bark of laughter from Scott. "Oh, and I am, huh? Okay, I admit it. I'll be back in a few hours."

Jeff smiled tiredly, and settled back down as Scott trudged out the door.


	10. At Breakfast

Ruth Tracy sat back from her breakfast, and eyed her three grandsons. They all looked better, even Virgil. Alan, bless him, was jittering at the table, anxious to get back to the hospital. So were Virgil and John, but they hid their agitation better.

Truth be told, she could hardly stand the delay herself. But she knew if she hadn't stood firm, none of her boys would have eaten a thing. Knowing how long this day was likely to be, she was determined to see that they had at least one solid meal under their belts.

She sat sipping her coffee, one eye on her boys, the other on the hotel lobby, visible through an arch. As she expected, she spotted Scott heading for the door. "Virgil," she said quietly, "go stop your brother and ask him to come in here, please."

Virgil's head swung up, and he stood quickly, "Yes, ma'am."

Ruth sighed. Virgil had told her that Scott had come in less than four hours ago. She knew for a fact that the young man hadn't slept in two days. John and Alan had looked up when she spoke, then after a surreptitious glance had started shoveling the eggs benedict in their mouths. "Stop it, boys. You're in a public place, and I won't have you disgracing me by acting like wild animals."

John's acknowledgement was meek, even as Alan's was tinged with resentment. Ruth ignored them both as Scott followed Virgil back to the table. He still looked tired, but like his brothers, the pain was gone from his eyes. "Good morning, Grandma."

Ruth offered up her cheek for a kiss that Scott obligingly supplied. "Sit down, son, I've already ordered your breakfast."

Ruth lifted a nod to the waiter standing at a sideboard. The man nodded back, then disappeared into the kitchen. Scott frowned and shook his head. "Thanks, but I need to get to the hospital. Dad's been up all night, and he's going to need to be relieved."

"I said sit down, Scott," Ruth didn't raise her voice, but with a sigh, her grandson sat. Ruth looked over at the other three and nodded. "All right, boys, you can go. I'll come with your brother. And Virgil, tell your father I expect him to come over here and get some rest."

"Okay, Grandma," Virgil responded as his brothers practically leapt to their feet. "Scott, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Scott's response was distracted as the waiter put a plate of eggs benedict in front of him. "I'll be there in a little while."

Virgil watched for a moment as his brother started to dig into his breakfast, then turned to hurry after his brothers. Ruth waited until Scott paused to sip his coffee. "Well? Is there any news?"

Scott looked up, mildly startled. "Yes. He woke up last night. Turns out there wasn't any problem with him not being able to speak, he just didn't know what was going on, and he was afraid to say anything until one of us was there."

Ruth sucked in a breath and felt the tears spring to her eyes. Noticing, Scott covered her hand with his. "He's all there, Grandma. He hurts like hell, but he's all there."

Ruth nodded, with a smile on her lips. She didn't trust herself to speak, and she squeezed her grandson's hand, to give herself time. Scott's answering smile died, and he shook his head. "Thing is, though, Dad's set on transferring him over to Inskip Sanatorium, and Gordon's just as determined that he's not going to go. I don't know what to do."

Ruth released Scott's hand so that she could pat his arm in a comforting manner. "You leave that to me, baby. Now, you just relax and eat. You've done a fine job of keeping the family together for the last few days, but you aren't the only one capable of handling this situation. All right? Will you trust me to take care of it for you?"

Scott stared at his breakfast, his jaw working. "Grandma, I just…"

Ruth kept her hand on her grandson's arm, lightly rubbing, and when the pause lengthened, nodded. "I know, Scott, I know. But it's going to be okay now. Everything's going to be fine. You can ease back for just a bit. I'll keep things on track for you. You can take over again this afternoon. For now, I would appreciate it if you would eat your breakfast, then I want you to come with me to the hospital to collect your father. You both need a few hours to let this all go."

Scott looked Ruth in the eye. "I'm fine, Grandma," he said firmly.

"Did I say you weren't? Baby, these last forty-eight hours have been frightful, but it's not over yet. Don't think I don't know your father's intention to follow up on that hateful man who did this. He's going to need a clear head, and you are too. You need a short break from the tension, and I intend to see that you have it."

"There's no way I'll be able to sleep, and Dad was napping at the hospital."

"I understand that. What I want you to do is just take a few short hours off. Put away your cell phone and laptop and take a walk in the park. Feed the ducks. Look at the waterfall. And see to it that your father does too. We've talked before about this, son. I know you say don't worry, but I do. It was stress that put your grandfather in an early grave, and I will not allow that to happen to your father. Or you. Not while there is still breath in my body."

"Two hours."

"Six."

"Four."

"Done." Ruth was careful to keep the triumph from her face. "Now, eat. I'm going up to my room for a minute, then we'll head over to the hospital."

Scott stood as Ruth got up. "Okay, Grandma. I'll be right here."

Ruth reached up to caress her grandson's cheek, then headed for the elevators. As she crossed the lobby, a display in the window of the gift shop caught her eye, and she paused to examine a small item taking center stage. With a smile, she entered the shop and purchased it, though not without misgivings at the exorbitant cost.

By the time she got up to her room, picked up her sweater, and returned to the lobby, Scott was already waiting for her.

"Now, honey, I expect you see to it that your father eats, and I mean calmly, without rushing," she chided. "It does you no good to hurry a meal when things are tense."

Scott eyed her speculatively, and tried a gambit. "Um, actually Grandma, the food was so good that I just didn't pause between bites."

Taking his arm as they headed out the door, Ruth pursed her lips. "Well, that tells me one of two things. Either you like that restaurant's food better than mine, or the manners I worked so hard to instill in you didn't take. So which is it?"

Scott laughed softly. "I think the third option is that I've once again forgotten that I can't put things over on you."

"Hmmm. Well, of course, that's apparently true, and you, a college graduate."

"Don't blame the college, Grandma. They just never got around to offering a class in Advanced Ruth Tracy."

"Tsk. Advanced? I don't think so. Knowing you can't fool me should be in Ruth Tracy 101," Ruth said tartly.

Laughing, Scott handed her into the backseat of the limousine that had been on standby. "Thanks, Grandma. You always know how to make me feel better."

Her grandson's laughter warmed Ruth's heart. It was true that she worried about all of her boys, but especially Scott. From the time he was a boy, he had always seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He bore it well, but still, Ruth worried about him.

As the car pulled away from the hotel she reached into her purse and pulled out a small box. "Look at what I found for your brother."

Scott watched as she opened the box and pulled out a flat black disk. She fumbled for a moment to press a button on the side, but when she did, a hologram appeared above the surface of the disk. In an instant, a fishbowl with a delicately patterned fish seemed to sit on Ruth's hand.

Scott smiled with delight. "Wow. That looks so realistic. It's great, Grandma."

"Well, don't you just want to poke it to see if it's real?"

Scott frowned, "What do you mean, Grandma? It's a hologram."

"Tsk. Just poke it."

Warily, Scott reached over with a finger and tentatively tried to poke the fish. To his surprise, the fish seemed to frown and in a watery little squeak said, "Hey! Watch it, buster."

Scott's eyebrows climbed, and he reached out again. This time the fish appeared to try to bite his finger before scooting to the far side of the 'bowl.' "Grandma! This is great! Gordon is going to love it."

"It just seems to scream Gordon, doesn't it? According to the man in the shop it has over a thousand different responses. It should keep him occupied, shouldn't it?"

"Absolutely. Grandma, this is just right."

Ruth reached for the button to turn it off, and the fish squeaked in its little voice, "No! Wait! You don't want to tou…"

Both Ruth and Scott laughed at the 'fish's' apparent panic as Ruth shut the hologram down. "Now, we aren't going to say anything to him. We'll just let him discover the features all by himself, all right?"

"Agreed. But I doubt he'll be able to resist trying to touch it for long."

"Well, we'll see." Ruth put the box back into her purse and leaned back on the leather seat cushions. She put her hand on her grandson's knee and watched the scenery as they drove to the hospital.


	11. The Doctor

Dr. Bob Halvorsen climbed out of his sportscar in the parking lot of Mercy General, smiling in the crisp spring air of Niagara, New York. Stretching, he sucked in a deep breath, and sighed in pleasure. He had loved the Falls area since the first time he visited during his honeymoon.

Upstate New York was very different from his childhood home in Southern California. When he'd passed his boards, he'd immediately moved with Karen and the kids to the area. With his skill, he had quickly risen to the top on his profession and been invited to join the staff at the very exclusive Inskip Sanatorium.

Most of his patients were arrogant and obnoxious, often a byproduct of wealth. There were a few notable exceptions, and the Tracy family numbered among them. He'd treated Gordon Tracy after a horrific boat accident had left the young man with more broken bones than seemed possible to survive.

The fact was that Gordon had not only survived, but had surpassed every expectation, learning to walk and talk again. Bob was under no illusions about his role in that recovery. He had provided the medical support, yes, but it was the unfailing moral support and love that the Tracy family supplied and Gordon's total refusal to accept failure that had made the difference.

Bob was truly saddened when he heard that Gordon had been injured again. He felt a certain guilt that he was looking forward to dealing with the family. In a practice devoted to people who considered him some sort of glorified butler, it would be good to be appreciated.

He entered the hospital, and presented his credentials at the desk and asked if it was possible to speak to the head of staff. To his surprise, the receptionist said that he was expected, and a hospital auxiliary volunteer immediately stepped up to take him to the man's office.

The white-haired senior smiled warmly and asked him to follow her. Used to dealing with older people, Bob offered his arm, and turned on the charm. "Thank you for taking the time to help me, ma'am."

The woman cocked an eyebrow at him. "Well, aren't you just a smoothie?"

Bob blurted a laugh. He was so used to the snooty manners of the rich that the woman's down to earth response startled him. "I suppose I could stick my nose up in the air if you'd prefer."

"No, that won't be necessary. It's nice to have a polite doctor here." The woman's emphasis told Bob that she'd run into her share of his less respectful colleagues. He smiled as she ushered him into an office.

A woman behind the desk looked up and said, "Thank you, Elaine. Doctor Halvorsen, Doctor Beath will see you immediately." She stood up, walked to a door, and gave a perfunctory tap as she opened it, saying, "Doctor Halvorsen is here."

As Bob stepped forward into the office, a distinguished white-haired man came out from behind a large mahogany desk and extended his hand. "Doctor Halvorsen, it is a true pleasure to meet you. I believe I have read all of your articles in the New England Journal of Medicine."

"Doctor. I have to say, I was a bit surprised to find you expecting me."

"I was advised by Mr. Jeff Tracy, himself," the doctor replied ruefully.

"Ah." Bob nodded sagely. "You've met the force of nature, huh?"

Chuckling, Dr. Beath indicated a chair as he moved back behind the desk. "That's a very apt description."

"Just wait until you meet his mother."

"I understand I won't be having that pleasure. You're here to facilitate a transfer to your sanatorium, aren't you?"

Bob frowned, "Please understand, this is in no way a reflection on your hospital or your staff. I worked with Gordon a few years ago when he was in a boating accident. Let me tell you, even at Inskip, we were hard put to keep the press at bay. Believe me, you don't want the disruption, Doctor."

"Call me Rangi," the doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I understand the issues. Mr. Tracy was quite concise in his explanation. I am willing to accept this transfer if it is truly in the patient's best interest. As far as the hospital is concerned, well, let's just say Mr. Tracy's extraordinary generosity has entirely shocked my board of directors, and eliminated any possibility of hurt feelings."

"Yeah, amazing isn't he? I can tell you from personal experience that the generosity is absolutely genuine. May I ask what he offered?"

"A new cancer center," Rangi shook his head in bewilderment. "A complete center. How he could have known that that was exactly what the area needs is beyond me."

"At a guess, I'd say John. Although, Virgil is good at that kind of research, too."

"Excuse me?"

"His sons. Let me tell you, that entire family is amazing. I'm willing to bet one or another of his sons got on the internet and researched the area to see exactly what you'd need."

Rangi frowned, "So this was a bribe."

"No, not at all. If the research showed the area needed a… new fire station, or maybe waste facility, that's what the Tracy family would have funded. Like I said, this family is amazing."

"Well, force of nature or amazing, I have to say, I liked the man. It wasn't until he'd left my office that I realized I'd pretty much given him everything he asked for. Anyway, I know you'll be wanting to see your patient, Doctor."

"Please, call me Bob. Yes, I'd like to take a look at the admission records first. And if I could have a word with the attending physician, I'd appreciate it."

"That'll be Dr. Gupta. I have to warn you, he's a bit star struck at the moment. He's been a big fan of yours since your paper on stem cell regeneration of spinal cord injury."

Bob smiled, "Oddly enough, Gordon Tracy was one of the patients in that study."

"Well, don't tell Raj that. He's distracted enough as it is."

"No problem," Bob nodded. "Well, I've taken enough of your time. Can you direct me to Dr. Gupta?"

Dr. Beath stood up and ushered Bob out the door. As they passed the administrative assistant at the desk, he said, "Carol, I'll be up on Four."

"Yes, Doctor."


	12. Security

"I heard you told Dad you weren't going to Inskip." Alan cocked his head to one side. Gordon was looking better this morning. Or maybe it was just that he was awake. The bruises were colorful, and Gordon's face was pale, but as he sighed, Alan could see that his brother's eyes were clear.

"Yeah."

"Is that a good idea? You know it's going to get out that you're here sooner or later. There'll be all sorts of creeps showing up."

"I don't care, I'm not going back there, Al."

"Well, we're going to have to come up with a good reason to convince Dad," Alan said doubtfully.

"Security," Virgil said softly from the corner of the room.

Alan looked over. "What do you mean? I thought the whole point of moving to Inskip was that it's more secure."

Virgil shook his head, "Compared to this place, yes, if all you're worried about is some hick stringer. But think about it. He was attacked. We're all in danger until we figure out what this was about and who was behind it."

Alan snorted. "We know who was behind it."

"We do?" Gordon frowned.

"The Hood."

"We don't know that, Alan. We can't afford to make assumptions here. We need to be sure," Virgil said firmly.

"You think it was the Hood?" Gordon had grown paler.

"The guy that attacked you was a petty crook from Malaysia. Who do we know from Malaysia who'd try to get someone on the island?"

"God."

"Don't borrow trouble, guys. Wait until we figure out for sure who did this."

Alan looked at Virgil. "Okay, so even assuming it's someone other than the Hood, what makes you think they would make the connection between us and International Rescue?"

"I don't think anything. I'm just saying we can't take chances with this."

"I agree. I think you should all go home. I'm fine here. I'll come home when I'm better."

"Not going to happen," Virgil said offhandedly. "We need to talk Dr. Halvorsen into letting us take Gordon home."

"Dr. Halvorsen? Good luck," Alan snorted.

"If not home, we need to move him somewhere out of this area. Whoever is behind this knows that their agent got onboard Thunderbird Two here. We can't let them coming sniffing."

"Yeah, but why would Dr. Halvorsen let Gordon go anywhere else? He's a doctor, but he's a businessman, too. He gets more money if Gordy's at Inskip."

"We'll just have to explain it to him."

"Hello? I do have a say here, you know. I am not going to Inskip, I don't care what anybody says," Gordon said stubbornly, closing his eyes.

"You okay?" Alan asked anxiously.

For a moment, Gordon looked as if he'd make a smart remark, but he settled for a tired, "Yeah, I'm fine."

Virgil frowned, "Just rest, squirt. Grandma will be here soon. You're going to want to be awake for her."

"She was probably pretty upset, huh?"

Virgil swallowed a fleeting look of pain and spoke softly, "We were all pretty upset, Gordon."

"What exactly happened?"

Alan looked from one brother to the other, feeling uncomfortable. He waited to see if Virgil would say anything, but his older brother just stared off into space. Before he could formulate an answer himself, the door opened, and his father came in, followed closely by his grandma and Scott.

Seeing her grandson awake, the elderly woman smiled, and moved quickly to stand beside him. "Oh, baby, I'm so glad to see your eyes open."

"I'm okay Grandma. A little banged up, but I'm fine."

Alan felt the love his grandmother was directing at his brother from across the room. It was funny, but just having Grandma in the room seemed to take some of the edge of worry off. He watched as she leaned in close, and kissed Gordon on the forehead, using her soft hand to caress his face.

His Dad stood back and watched for a moment, then looking around, said, "All right, boys, they limit visitors to two at a time. Let's not abuse the privilege. I'll be out in a minute."

Alan nodded and turned to leave. He wanted to continue his discussion with his brothers out of his grandmother's hearing. Out in the corridor, he briefly acknowledged the two men in TE security jackets guarding the door. He looked around for John, but the middle Tracy brother was nowhere to be seen. Glancing at Scott, he asked, "Where's Johnny?"

Scott jerked his head toward an open archway down the hall. "Come on."

Alan followed his brother to find a small waiting room through the arch. John was perched on one of the vinyl benches, tapping away at his laptop. Scott took in a deep breath, stretching, "I've got to tell you, I about had a heart attack when I walked into that room and Gordon wasn't there."

"Yeah, I had the same reaction." Virgil smiled ruefully, "John, you know, you could have mentioned you got him moved to a private room."

John looked up and shook his head, "Hey, I had no more idea than any of you. I knew they were going to move him, but, come on, who'd expect them to do it at six in the morning?"

Impatient, Alan addressed Scott, "Virgil thinks we're in danger here. He thinks we need to get Gordon home."

Scott spared a glance at Virgil, nodding his head. "I agree. Until we can determine who was behind that intruder, and how much they found out, we can't be sure we're safe."

John's eyebrows rose, "What do you mean, how much they found out? I thought Brains said there weren't any tracking devices on that guy."

"There weren't. But ask yourself, what was the point of getting a man onto the base if it wasn't to gather intel? And how did they expect to get the information? What sense would it make to send somebody in without a way to contact them?"

All four brothers grew quiet as they considered the possibilities. After a few minutes, John shrugged his shoulders, "My best guess is they figured their man could blend in, get what they needed and then get out again without us being any the wiser."

"Blend in? How could he blend in?" Alan snorted.

Virgil was nodding, "Actually, that makes sense. Think about it. Nobody knows how big our base is. Most of the world assumes we're a much bigger operation than we are. Why else would he bother with Gordon's uniform?"

All eyes turned to Scott who eventually nodded. "I think that's a workable hypothesis, but I'm still bothered by the lack of tracker, or radio, or even a phone."

"Maybe he thought he could use our communicators. He had Gordy's, after all."

John shook his head, "No, the communicators are essentially a closed system. He'd have to be able to re-program it to get a signal out, and I would have caught it if he'd tried."

"Yeah, but he didn't know that."

The brothers fell silent again. At the sound of voices in the hallway, all four men looked up, in time to see Dr. Halvorsen walking down the hall, deep in conversation with Gordon's doctor, Dr. Gupta. Scott stood up. "Doctor Halvorsen?"

The doctors both looked over, and Halvorsen changed direction, smiling as he held out his hand, "Scott. A pleasure to see you again."

"You too, Doctor. You remember my brothers?"

"Of course. Fellows, it's good to see you all again," Halvorsen was all smiles as he shook each of the brothers' hands. "Sorry it has to be under these circumstances."

"Yeah, about that…" Alan started.

Scott shot his youngest brother a hard glance. "Doctor, you may as well know before you go in that Gordon is dead set against going to Inskip."

Halvorsen's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Why is that?"

"It has nothing to do with you, sir. It's just that Inskip is full of bad memories for Gordon. He's always avoided things that bother him. It's kind of a mental health thing," John said.

"Hmm. Well, I'm sorry that he feels that way. What am I doing here, then?"

Scott sighed. "I said Gordon was against it. Dad, on the other hand…"

"Ah. Well, I guess knowing them both, it will be interesting anyway. And can I ask how you guys feel about it?"

"We want Gordon to come home," Alan said firmly.

Scott caught Halvorsen's eye. "We all want what's best for Gordon, whatever that is. But, you'll remember the trouble we had the last time. One of the downsides of having a lot of money is that we tend to be targets for all sorts of people. It's unfair to expect the folks here to put up with the confusion and disturbance. That said, we are hoping to find a safe way to transport him home."

"Home? You're still on that island?"

"Yes. But we have medical facilities on the island. We have a local doctor who can look in daily, and one of our employees is actually a medical researcher with EMT training. Understand, we will stand by any decision you and Gordon make, but we'd appreciate you keeping our home in mind."

Halvorsen frowned. "Thank you for telling me, but I don't think I'd be comfortable letting him out of an acute care facility in favor of a home setting with a hospital bed. Frankly, I'm a bit surprised you'd suggest it."

"You get paid either way." Alan practically snarled. The stress of the last few days suddenly overwhelmed him, and Halvorsen's refusal to even consider letting Gordon come home moved the man into the category of enemy.

Both Scott and Virgil stiffened at Alan's outburst. John moved smoothly between the doctor and his brothers. "Come on, Doctor. Grandma and Dad are both in with Gordon right now. They'll want to see you."

His ears pink, the doctor nodded stiffly and allowed John to guide him away. As soon as he was out of earshot, Scott turned on his brother. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You heard him. He intends to get Gordy in his clutches so he can make a few bucks." Alan said scornfully.

"What I heard was the guy who saved Gordon's life four years ago telling us he doesn't give a damn what we want, he's going to do what's best for Gordon." Virgil's voice was low, the anger manifest in the rock hard tone.

Scott nodded. "Last week you and Gordon were out water-skiing. That wouldn't have ever happened if it weren't for that man. You owe him an apology."

Alan's jaw hardened. He enunciated very clearly, "I want my brother home where it's safe."

"Yeah? Even if it means he dies?" John walked up standing with his older brothers a look of fury on his face. "You've had the training. You know how dangerous skull fractures can be."

Alan turned sullen. "Gordy's tough."

"Oh, great epitaph, Al. 'He was tough." John crossed his arms, his tone scathing.

"All right, enough of that," Scott chided. "Look, Alan, Doctor Halvorsen is not the enemy here. He's here to help. I don't care if Dad gives him a million dollars. Gordon is worth it, right?"

Put that way, Alan had no choice but to agree. "Yeah, okay. But it pissed me off the way he wouldn't even consider it."

"Why would he? As far as he can tell, he's right, we have a hospital bed and that's it. I think we should give Doc Carraker a call, see if he'll give Halvorsen the scoop. If we can convince him that letting Gordon come home won't compromise his recovery, I'll bet he'll be more than happy to release him."

Alan let his skepticism show on his face. Scott shrugged, "We can hope. Now, John what have you found out?"

"Nothing useful. We really need to get an agent on the ground in that town the guy was from. He was low-level in whatever this was. It's going to be hard to track down who he was hanging with if we don't just get over there into the bars and hangouts."

"I say we should just assume the Hood is responsible. We go dig him out of whatever hole he's hiding in, and take him down. We all know he's a murderer and a thug. We'd be doing the world a favor," Alan said defiantly.

"Okay, so we take him down. Then what? What if he isn't responsible. What if whoever it is is left with a free hand? Do you want to take that chance? I don't." Virgil replied reasonably.

"Do you really honestly think it's someone else?"

"I told you, Al, I want to know, not just think."

"I agree. Alan, you're just going to have to accept that we're not going to rush in until we have better intel," Scott said patiently. "In the meantime, I think it would be a good idea if you apologized to Dr. Halvorsen. Dad would not be happy if the man who saved Gordon's life were to walk out in a huff."

Alan ran his hand through his hair, then nodded. "Yeah, okay."


	13. Discussion

Gordon smiled at his grandmother's gift. She'd pulled the bed tray over and put the disk on it, and pushed a button. Now in front of him was a fishbowl complete with lifelike holographic fish. He could have told her that in reality a clownfish actually needed a full saltwater aquarium and its symbiotic partner, a sea anemone, but the truth was, he liked the little guy in just a fishbowl.

"So, did you bring me some fish food, too, Grandma?"

His dad frowned, and said worriedly, "Son… it's a hologram."

The comment surprised Gordon and gave him an indication of just how worried his family was. "Yeah, but see, a little jar of fish food on the side will give it an extra touch of reality," Gordon replied, batting his eyes. Then his smile turned sly. "And it'll drive the nurses crazy."

Grandma pursed her lips and said, "Gordon David Tracy, you are to leave those poor people alone. They are here to help. Don't you forget it."

"Okay, Grandma," Gordon replied cheerfully. He sensed his father relaxing a bit, which had been his purpose.

In truth, he wanted to relax himself. It was hard keeping up the pretense of interest in things. He was exhausted, and the headache had been slowly but surely growing. But he knew his family needed to be reassured. When he'd asked his brothers if his grandma had been upset, he'd been caught off guard by the sheer misery in Virgil's response. He didn't like the pain he'd seen there.

He also wanted some time alone with his father, or maybe Scott. He needed to know exactly what had happened. Alan seemed convinced the Hood was involved. Virgil apparently thought the entire family was in danger. If that was the case, he wanted everyone to clear out. The idea that anyone could be hurt because he was stuck here was far more painful than any headache.

He knew that Inskip Sanatorium was a secure facility, but nothing would make him go back there. He didn't want his family in danger, but to face those warm, homey rooms with those kind, compassionate faces was beyond his ability. His father didn't understand, and Gordon didn't think he could possibly explain. Scott didn't understand either, but he simply accepted that it wasn't going to happen and looked for ways around it.

Gordon shied instinctively away from the dark thoughts. He looked at his fish, and on impulse started to reach out to touch the bowl. He arrested the movement when the door to the room opened. His heart fell when John stepped aside to allow Doctor Halvorsen to enter.

He watched as his father and grandmother greeted the man warmly. Gordon sighed quietly. He had nothing but respect for this man. Only a fool would not appreciate all that the doctor had done for him, but he couldn't help a wary watchfulness, as if he were in a tank with a barracuda or shark.

"If you don't mind, I'd like a few minutes alone with Gordon," Dr. Halvorsen said.

"Of course. Mom, let's go get a cup of coffee."

Gordon watched them leave, then turned his attention to the doctor. Looking askance at the fishbowl, Halvorsen moved the bed tray to the side, then eyed Gordon speculatively. "So, how have you been, Gordon?"

"Until a couple of days ago, I was great. How've you been, Bob?"

"Very well, thanks. I hear you don't want to come over to the sanatorium." Halvorsen pulled a stethoscope from the briefcase he was carrying. With a glance for permission, he started his examination.

"No offense, but I am not going there." Gordon put his cards on the table.

"Deep breath. And again. Again. One more time." With an absent nod, Halvorsen took Gordon's wrist to check his pulse. "What does your dad think about that?"

Gordon would have shaken his head if it weren't for the pain, "Not his choice."

"True. Look straight over my shoulder."

Gordon bit his tongue as the penlight pierced his brain like a laser. "I want to go home."

"Yes, I heard." Bob stood back and pulled out a notebook, and started writing.

Gordon waited as long as he could. "Well? What do you think?"

Bob looked over and cocked an eyebrow. "I think you have a remarkably hard head. In more ways than one. But then, you seem to come by it honestly."

Gordon waited, and after another moment, the doctor continued, "As far as going home is concerned, I'm against it, at least for a week. Gordon, the bones of your skull actually cracked. Whether you like it or not, you're going to require around the clock monitoring for several days."

"I can get that at home. Dad can bring in all the nurses and doctors you want."

"I have no doubt. But there is equipment that only a hospital can supply. I spent a lot of time putting you back together the last time. I don't want to waste that effort by taking a chance with you now."

"I can sign myself out if necessary."

"Yes, you can." Bob looked Gordon right in the eye.

It was Gordon who looked away from that challenge. "You don't understand," he said softly.

"I do. You don't want to move to the sanatorium. I've got that. I'm disappointed, but I suppose it has bad memories for you." Bob sighed. "If you want to stay here, I will give your attending physician my recommendations and come to see you as often as my duties permit. You've already got bodyguards in the hallway. And I dare say your brothers will see to it that nobody bothers you. But I cannot sign off on a release. I'm sorry, Gordon."

Gordon closed his eyes, sighing. He wanted to continue the argument, but he was so tired. He drifted off, unaware of the doctor leaving the room.


	14. Mounting Tension

When Jeff stepped into the hallway with his mother, he automatically moved to stretch his neck and shoulders. There had been an unspoken tension in the room as they had waited for Bob Halvorsen to arrive.

Lord knew he didn't want to argue with his son, especially under the circumstances, but every hour they remained in this very public setting increased the chances that they would be noticed. The press could be dealt with, but there were people out there who would think nothing of harming those near and dear to him to get an advantage.

And those concerns paled in comparison with the thought of his son being in the hands of less than brilliant doctors. Bob Halvorsen had been an absolute godsend when Gordon had been injured before. And Inskip was a state of the art facility. The facility here, no matter how clean, simply couldn't compare.

He guided his mother to the nearby waiting room, and immediately sensed the tension in his sons. Frowning, he caught Scott's eye. "What?"

Scott shook his head. "Nothing, Dad. A difference of opinion. It's already been handled."

Jeff eyed his eldest, then nodded his head. He moved to the coffeepot in the corner, but Alan spoke up, "Dad, that stuff is deadly. Let me do a coffee run. Grandma, you want cappuccino?"

"Thank you, sweetheart, yes."

Jeff rubbed his eyes. "Get me as big a cup as they sell, with a couple of shots, will you?"

"Sure, Dad. Anybody else?"

Alan took his brothers' orders and headed out the door. "I'll be back before you know it."

Jeff moved to a padded bench against the wall and sat down and leaned back. "You boys okay?"

"We're fine, Dad," Scott acted as spokesman out of habit. "Listen, why don't you and I go for a drive? See the scenery?"

Jeff frowned. For Scott to make the suggestion meant that he had some information that he didn't want his grandmother, and possibly his brothers, to hear. Jeff wanted that information, but he wouldn't… couldn't… leave until the matter of moving Gordon was settled. "Later, son. I want to wait for Doctor Halvorsen's assessment."

Scott nodded and settled down next to his grandma, automatically taking her hand. Virgil and John exchanged glances and sat too. For several minutes, the silence and tension grew. When Ruth spoke, all four men jumped a bit. "I know you all want to talk business. I'm not going anywhere, so you may as well forget about protecting my delicate sensibilities and say what you need to say."

Jeff huffed a small laugh as his sons all hastened to deny the possibility. "Boys, give it up. She's on to us."

The tension eased a bit, but no one offered to speak up. Jeff didn't push. He was anxious for the doctor's report, and he knew everyone else was to. Before the silence became awkward, Bob Halvorsen appeared in the doorway. "Well, this brings back old times, doesn't it?"

Jeff smiled, standing. "Not times any of us like to recall, I'm afraid."

"Understandable. Well, at least this time I can give more optimistic news," Bob said. He moved to sit next to Ruth. "Gordon's doing very well under the circumstances. There's no sign of pneumonia, or organ damage. Dr. Gupta has scheduled surgery for this afternoon to pin the collarbone and arm fractures. I've ordered a set of the SCGB pins to be sent over from the sanatorium. As you'll recall, he did very well with them the last time, and they are far superior to anything available to the general population. He…"

"Doctor, I'd rather wait until he's moved for that surgery. When can he be transported?" Jeff interrupted.

Bob looked askance at the head of the Tracy family. "Gordon prefers not to go to the sanatorium. That choice is his, and I must abide by it. I'm very comfortable with Dr. Gupta's skills, Mr. Tracy. In fact, I intend to ask my board of directors to vet him for a position."

Jeff took a deep breath to keep from snapping at the doctor. With jaw muscles aching from the tension, he gritted out. "No. I will not allow anybody but you to work on my son. Arrange for the ambulance, Doctor. Gordon will be going to your sanatorium."

"Jeff. Sit down."

Jeff looked over at his mother. She had fire in her eye, but he had his own fire. "Mother, I will not leave my son in this place."

Scott stood up and intervened. "Dad, hang on a moment. Doctor, what about taking him home? Once the surgery's done, I mean?"

Halvorsen looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. Gordon is doing remarkably well, but I can't in good conscience release him from care. He's threatened to sign himself out, but I believe that would be a mistake. He needs trained medical care and…"

"We can get a nurse," John interrupted, frowning.

"Yes, I know. Gordon made the same argument. I'll tell you what I told him. A hospital like this, or the sanatorium, has equipment that I pray he'll never need. But if his condition worsens, he'll need that equipment immediately, and the delay in getting him to an appropriate facility could prove deadly."

"What kind of equipment?" Virgil asked.

Bob pursed his lips, shaking his head. "I know you want him home. I know you have the wherewithal to actually buy anything I suggest. But by the time you had the equipment delivered and installed, Gordon would be ready for release anyway."

Ruth reached to placed a calm hand on Bob's arm. "Doctor, how long are we talking? When can we take Gordon home?"

Bob sighed. "Assuming he continues to improve, and with that nurse on a round the clock basis, it could be within, say, seventy-two hours. Possibly."

"Three days? That's not bad," Scott said.

Still tense, Jeff's jaw worked. He nodded sharply. "Even Gordon can handle three days at Inskip."

"Nonsense. There's no point in distressing him if a little patience on your part will seen him home safe and sound."

Jeff swiped a hand across his face. "Mom, there's more to this than patience. I'm not letting just anybody cut my son."

"And you heard Dr. Halvorsen. He has total faith in Dr. Gupta. Either you trust Dr. Halvorsen's judgement or not. If he says Dr. Gupta is good, then I will believe him."

"Mr. Tracy, believe me, Dr Gupta is not just anybody. But if it eases your mind, let me mention he has consented to my observing the operation. I'll be in the operating theater the entire time. Gordon is in good hands, here, despite your concern."

Frustration suddenly overwhelmed him, making him feel like a cornered animal. His face turning hot, Jeff snarled, "There are security issues here, Doctor. Issues you can't even imagine. The longer we are here, the more danger we're in."

Scott started at the intensity of his father's outburst. He stepped up, frowning. "Dad, I need to talk to you about that. Let's take that ride."

"I'm not leaving here until this is settled," Jeff pulled away from his son, uncharacteristically angry at his eldest son.

Virgil moved up next to his brother. "Dad, even if we move him, it'll take time to set up the ambulance. Why don't you step out with Scott? John and I will make sure nothing happens while you're gone."

Jeff felt the world closing in on him. It was as if his family had all turned against him. It took all he had not to reach out and strike his son. When he realized that the thought of hitting Virgil had even occurred to him, he stepped back. The angry tension ran out of him, and he just felt tired and sad. "All right. We'll be back in ten minutes."

He turned his back on his family and walked wearily away. As he left the room, he heard Scott order, "John, set up that conference call."

Scott moved up next to Jeff. "Come on, Dad, I have a car out front."

Jeff shook his head, "No, I'm not leaving the grounds. Let's just go to the… cafeteria, or commissary, whatever they call it here."

"No, I need to get out of here."

Jeff looked up surprised by the tone of defeat in his son's voice. "Are you okay? What is it you found out?"

Before Scott could answer, the elevator opened up, and the two men found themselves face to face with Alan, holding a paper tray of cardboard coffee cups. "Hey, guys, here's the coffee. Dad, yours is this one. Scott, here. You guys going somewhere?"

"Yeah, we're going to take a short break," Scott responded.

"What did Dr. Halvorsen say?"

"Virg will fill you in. Come on, Dad."

Scott guided Jeff into the elevator. As the doors closed on a concerned-looking Alan, Jeff raised his cup in thanks. With the door closed, he turned to his son. "Scott? What is going on?"

Scott stared up at the floor indicator. "Not here, Dad."

The door opened to admit a couple of orderlies, and Jeff made a pretense of sipping his coffee. Impatient as he was, he understood the need for privacy. When they reached the ground floor, Scott led the way outside. The parking lot was crowded, but at some point his son had managed to snag a space just a few steps away from the main entrance.

Scott took the driver's seat of the rental car, leaving Jeff to climb in the passenger's side. When Scott reached to start the ignition, Jeff reached out a hand and stopped him. "Son, for God's sake, just tell me what you've found out."

"All right," Scott nodded, but started the car anyway. He pulled out of the parking lot and sighed. "I found out that Grandma is right as usual."

"What?"

"Dad, tell me you didn't almost deck Virgil back there."

"Scott, did you find out something pertinent or not?" Jeff grated.

"Grandma made me promise I would get you out of there for a few hours. She said we both needed a break from the tension. I thought she was just being… well, you know, Grandma. But you're on edge, and so am I. So we're going for a ride."

"Turn the car around." Jeff's tone was deadly.

"Not a chance," Scott's tone was as hard as his father's. "There is too much riding what happens in the next few days. I can't afford to have you break down on me."

"Break down? You are overstepping your bounds, now turn this car around."

"My bounds? My bounds include all of my family. You need to sit back and breathe and think. You can't ride roughshod over Gordon. He won't let you, and neither will I. He's made his decision, and believe me, you try to force him to Inskip, and the only thing that will happen is a screaming match."

"It's not safe. You know that as well as I do."

"We can make it safe for seventy-two hours. Damn, you're starting to sound like some paranoid hermit. Nobody knows Gordon is here. Nobody knows we're here."

"The press will find out."

Scott snorted, "The press are off to Hawaii. Johnny hired body doubles for both Gordy and Al. They're currently living it up on Waikiki. Believe me, the press are not looking here."

"And what about the people that put that bastard on Thunderbird Two?"

"What about them? I've been thinking about it, and I bet that guy was making it up as he went along. There's nothing to make those people think there's an International Rescue operative in the area."

"Do you want to bet your brother's life on it?"

Scott shook his head. "No. That's why we're going to stay here and protect him. With any luck, it won't be the whole seventy-two hours. John is setting up a conference call between Halvorsen and Doc Carraker."

"For?"

"Doc Carraker can clue Halvorsen in on our facilities. The only reason he doesn't want to release Gordon is because he thinks the island is just a rich man's villa. Hopefully, Doc will set him straight."

Jeff shook his head. He felt out of control. "Scott…"

Scott waited for his father to continue, but when the silence stretched out, he said, "Grandma thinks we should feed ducks."

Startled, Jeff barked a laugh. "Ducks."

"That, or look at the waterfall," Scott smiled. "I say I've seen enough of that waterfall to last a lifetime."

"We never did debrief, did we?"

"I say we wait until Gordon's well enough to attend."

Jeff nodded and turned to stare out the window.


	15. The Healing Power of Sledgehammers

Virgil watched as his glassy-eyed brother was wheeled into the surgical suite. As soon as Scott had taken his father out, Ruth quietly requested Dr. Gupta's presence, and had talked the man into moving Gordon's surgery up. Virgil wasn't convinced that it was a good idea. His dad was on edge enough without this.

He sighed, the coffee turning sour in his stomach. He agreed with his father that he'd prefer Doctor Halvorsen to perform the operation, but his grandma was determined to show her faith in Dr. Gupta. He moved to the surgical waiting room where Ruth and Alan sat trying hard not to show their worry. John had remained in the waiting room by Gordon's room in case Scott and their father returned.

Alan looked over at his older brother. "So, where were Scott and Dad going, anyway?"

"I don't know, they didn't say."

"I told Scott to take your father for a drive. To ease the tension," Ruth sniffed.

Alan's eyes widened. "And Dad agreed?"

"I don't think he knew what Scott had up his sleeve." Virgil shook his head.

"You know, I really need to start giving Scott more credit. They've been gone for what? An hour? I would have thought Dad would have come back as soon as he knew what was up."

Virgil shot a glance at his baby brother. "Yes. I agree you should give Scott more credit."

Alan bristled at the implied criticism, but Ruth short-circuited the argument. "Baby, that cappuccino didn't sit well with me. Could you be a dear and find me a bottle of water?"

"Sure, Grandma," Alan responded, immediately getting up and heading for the door, but not without spearing Virgil with a look.

Virgil leaned back closing his eyes. He opened them again when he felt a soft hand on his face. "You look so tired, sweetheart. Once your brother is out of surgery, I think you and I should go back to the hotel and rest."

"I'm fine, Grandma," Virgil replied automatically.

"Virgil, look at me. Don't you think I don't know what is going on in your mind. You're not to dwell on might have beens. None of this was your fault."

Virgil shook his head and looked away. "Grandma, if I'd only checked on him…"

"Yes? If you'd checked on him, what?"

"I would have known something was wrong. I would have known, Grandma. I could have done something about it."

"But don't you see, honey? If you had checked, and done something, you would still feel just the way you feel now. You'd still be thinking you could have done something differently. You'd still be thinking about all the awful possibilities. You take so much onto yourself. You and Scott both. For the most part, that keeps you and your brothers safe when you go out on rescues. But at times like this, it becomes your downfall."

Virgil sighed. "I know Grandma, I know. My head tells me to get past it, but my heart just sees the look on Dad's face when we watched that security tape."

"Honey, that look was on all of our faces. Tell your heart to get over it. As I told your brother, this isn't over yet. Your father intends to see that the people responsible can never do anything like this again. He's going to need you at the top of your game." Ruth sighed, "I probably should have sent you out on that drive with them, but I need you here with me. I need to know that my baby is safe, and while I have every faith in John and Alan, they need your steady hand if something happens. So, I am asking you to put aside your grief and your fear for now. Can you do that, Virgil?"

Virgil looked at his grandmother. Small though she was, the pride and challenge shone in her eyes, and Virgil could practically feel her strength infuse him. Breathing deeply, he nodded, "Yes, ma'am. I can do that."

Ruth reached out and patted his hand. "Now, that's the Virgil Tracy I know."

Virgil continued to mull over what she had said, and after several minutes, said softly, "Thank you, Grandma."

"You're welcome, baby." Ruth looked down the hallway visible through the door of the waiting room. "Now, where is that boy? You don't suppose he went to the waterfall to get that bottle of water for me?"

His grandmother's tone of exasperation brought a smile to Virgil's lips. "Oh, you know Alan, Grandma. He probably stopped to flirt with a nurse or two."

Ruth licked her lips. "I wasn't just sending him off to stop an argument, which, I might add, should never have come up. I really do want some water."

"Well, let me go find him. I could use some water too." Virgil stood up, but before he could take a step, Alan appeared at the end of the hall, carrying a brown grocery bag. "Oh, there he is."

"It's about time!" Ruth huffed to her youngest grandson.

"Sorry, Grandma. I went across the street to the market. I thought we could do with something to eat." Alan reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of water, and a small package of chewable antacids. Handing them to his grandmother, he reached back into the bag, and got a can of 7up. "I thought you'd like a soda, Virg."

Virgil ducked his head. "Thanks."

Ruth peered into the bag, "What else have you brought us?"

"Just some crackers and fruit and stuff. Any word yet?"

Virgil shook his head. "Not yet. Listen, Al, I didn't mean that crack."

Alan shrugged. "We're under pressure here."

"Yeah," Virgil replied softly, never lifting his eyes from the soda can in his hand.

"And, of course, there is nothing that relieves pressure better than goober jelly," Alan said casually, pulling the jar of Virgil's favorite snack out. "And cheese saltines."

"Tsk." Ruth shook her head in disgust. She'd never understood some of her grandchildren's tastes. "Don't make a mess, boys."

Virgil was smiling as his brother handed over the jar, and a sleeve of crackers. "You have a knife in there?"

"Absolutely," Alan replied as he flourished a box of plastic knives. Reaching into the seemingly bottomless grocery bag, the young blond next pulled out a jar of marshmallow crème.

"Alan, you are not opening that in this hospital," Ruth said severely. "As a matter of fact, you can just put all of that junk food right back in that bag. Now, you said you brought some fruit? You boys can eat that and save the rest for the hotel."

Virgil sighed. He wasn't really hungry, but given the opportunity, he would have liked to have had some of the goober jelly. Alan caught his eye, and winked. "I don't know, Grandma, the fruit has pits, it might be messier than the goober jelly and crackers."

As he spoke, Alan pulled out a large clear plastic bag of cherries. Virgil had to smile. His grandmother had taught all of her grandsons discipline by her own outstanding example, but that discipline always disappeared in the face of fresh cherries.

"Oh," Ruth squeaked, and held out her hand. Alan wisely handed the entire bag over. The two brothers shared a glance and a fond smile at their grandmother's obvious delight.

At the sound of voices in the hallway, Virgil looked up and saw his father, face stormy, Scott and John trailing behind. He barely registered the disheveled appearance of his eldest brother and father, before Jeff was up in his face. "Why the hell didn't you call me when your brother's surgery was moved up? I left you in charge here, I expected you to stay in control. Why did they move it up? Did something happen? Why weren't you on the damn phone the moment you knew there was a change?"

Virgil took a breath at the tone of accusation, his own temper rising, but his grandmother spoke sharply, before he could reply. "Jeff! Virgil didn't call you because I asked him not to."

Jeff spun on the tiny woman. "Mom, you had no right…"

"Hey!" Virgil and Scott both moved up.

Ruth raised a hand, her voice steel. "Boys, if you'll give me a moment with your father, please."

Virgil tried to calm his breathing. It was one thing for his dad to snap at him, but raising his voice to Grandma was offbase. He backed away only because Alan was pulling his sleeve, just as John was Scott's.

They stepped into the hallway, and Alan smirked, "Take it easy, Virg, Grandma will smack him down."

They stood there, not willing to walk away, listening to the muffled argument in the next room.

"Did you guys have a fight or something? You look like you've been through the wringer," Alan asked, frowning.

"No," Scott shook his head. "In fact, I want you and Virg to come with me."

"What? Why? Where? I don't want to go anywhere, not until I'm sure Gordy's okay." Alan shook his head, the frown deepening.

"Well, we'll wait until Dad's calmed down, but we're going to go for a ride."

By this time, Virgil's frown matched that of his brother. He had no more desire to leave than Alan. Scott said quietly, "You'll see."

The sounds of combat had dwindled away to nothing, and John frowned. "Do you think it's safe?"

"Only one way to find out," Scott said, stepping back to the room. "Grandma, you okay?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart."

Virgil and his brothers moved back into the room, somewhat tentatively. Jeff looked up at Virgil, saying, "Son, that was unforgivable. I'm truly sorry for yelling."

Virgil relaxed a bit. "That's okay. Alan reminded me earlier that we're all under a lot of pressure."

Scott nodded. "Grandma, Virgil, Alan and I are going for a ride, we'll see you in a while."

Ruth's eyebrows climbed, "All right, Honey."

Scott walked out and reluctantly, Virgil followed his brother out of the room. "What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Patience, guys. Dad and I found something that helps."

"Helps? Helps with what, Scott?" Alan asked as the brothers entered the elevator.

Scott smiled as he watched the floor indicator, saying nothing. Virgil looked his brother over, his eyebrows climbing as he realized that Scott seemed far more relaxed than Virgil would have expected. "Scott?"

Scott grinned crookedly, "It's good, I promise you."

The three brothers left the hospital in the car that Scott had rented. From the backseat, Alan asked, "Okay, so, you have us. Now, where are we going?"

Scott just smiled. "You'll see. It's only a couple of miles. Relax, enjoy the scenery."

Virgil shot his brother a look. They were driving through an area of warehouses and small factories. "Unless you're seeing things, there is no scenery, Scott."

Scott chuckled, "Yeah, well, you're right, of course, but we'll be there in another minute, so just close your eyes or something."

Virgil frowned. Something had happened to put Scott in a good mood. Under the circumstances, he couldn't imagine what that something was. But faith in his brother was second nature to him, and so he did as he was told, and tried to relax.

Scott turned a corner, and Virgil perked up. Up the road was a construction site. Since childhood, Virgil had always been interested in construction, and any time he saw a site, he would stop to watch. "Scott, slow down, I want to see what they're doing over there."

Instead of slowing, Scott turned into the site, pulling up to park next to a series of cars and pick up trucks. Surprised, Virgil noticed the large sign declaring the site to be the new campus of the Western New York School for the Deaf, and more noticeable, to his eyes anyway, the logo of the construction company. "We're building this school?"

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Scott grinned, "Small world, isn't it? Come on."

Curious, Virgil got out of the car, and followed his brother. Alan brought up the rear, his interest increasing, "Where are we going? Are we going to help build something?"

"Even better," Scott said as they rounded a large excavator. "They're demolishing the existing structure today. Dad and I saw the sign, and Dad decided to check in with the foreman. They're short several workers today, and when Dad volunteered us, the foreman said okay."

"Yeah, like anybody in their right mind would say no to Dad," Alan grinned.

Scott chuckled. "Come on, guys, let's go break something!"

Virgil frowned as they came on the scene of men with sledge hammers breaking up the porch of a large rambling old house. "Wait, why are they doing this by hand? Why aren't they using that excavator?"

"Because we got four guys qualified on it, and all four of them are gone," a burly man in a hardhat said, as he walked up. Pulling off a glove, he held out his hand to Virgil. "Bart Fried."

"Virgil Tracy. All four? Is it a strike or something?" Virgil asked, shaking the man's hand.

"Naw, it's just plain rotten luck. One of them's getting married today, and another is the best man. The other two guys are brothers and their dad died the other day. I hear youse guys are here on account of your brother being in the hospital. That's a tough break, but hey, I'll take the help. Which one of youse can handle that excavator?"

"I can." Virgil and Alan replied in unison. Alan stepped up, and shook the foreman's hand, "Alan Tracy. I'm your man for the excavator."

"All right. We're gonna pull down the walls in a bit. First, I'm hoping youse all will help with the rough work. I got a crew up on the second floor knocking down some interior walls. You guys gonna help or what?" The foreman was eyeing the three brothers, trying to judge if they'd be any real help at all.

"Can you loan us hardhats and gloves?" Virgil asked, hiding his annoyance at Alan usurping his place on the excavator.

"Yeah, I think we can scrounge something up. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to the crew chief."

The three brothers followed the foreman over to a trailer, where they were outfitted with heavy leather gloves and hardhats. The foreman used a radio to get the crew chief. The man came in a few moments later, frowning ferociously. "Bart, what the hell you talking about, volunteers? I ain't wet nursing no goddamn Habitat for Humanity society ladies."

The foreman grimaced, "Bud, these here guys are Scott, Alan and Virgil Tracy. They're gonna help us knock this place down."

Bud glanced at the brothers and sneered, "What the hell is wrong with you, letting pretty boys on the site?"

"Tracy, Bud. As in Tracy Enterprises," Bart said in a low voice, staring hard at the crew chief.

Bud wasn't to be deterred. "I don't care if they're goddamn angels on high, I'm not putting my crew at risk so some playboy can play dress up."

Scott stepped up, using his command voice. "Your crew is not at risk. My brothers and I are here to help. We're not novices and we will take direction. So let's just quit wasting time and get to work."

Virgil hid his smile. Bud had stopped in mid-rant, and was looking Scott over with shrewd eyes. One of the things that Virgil admired most about his big brother was his ability to use just the right tone to win people over. Bud was skeptical, but given Scott's forthrightness, he seemed reluctantly willing to let them try.

"All right, fine. Sure. But you'll do what you're told, or I'll kick your Park Avenue butt all the way back to the Hudson, got it?"

"Yes," Scott replied simply. Bud nodded curtly, and led the way back into the building.

Virgil looked around as they went, automatically cataloguing fixtures and features. They went up a makeshift staircase, probably temporarily installed after the original was salvaged. Reaching the end of a hallway, Bud gestured to a room. "These here walls are load bearing. Touch them, and I'll kick your asses. These walls here and here, are not load bearing, and they have to come down. Your job is to tear them down, pure and simple. You hurt yourselves and you got nobody to blame. Now, I got real work to do."

Without another word, Bud turned on heel and left. The three brothers looked at each other. Alan asked, "And why are we doing this?"

Virgil snorted a laugh, and pointed, "That wall's mine."

Picking up the sledgehammers they'd been given, the three brothers got to work. Virgil quickly got into a rhythm of swinging the heavy hammer to punch a hole, then shaking the handle to loosen the head and widen the hole. It felt good to work up a sweat, but the job was done all too quickly.

He looked around, and saw that Scott and Alan were finishing up on their wall. "Guys, we need to pull all of the debris to the outer wall, so it falls right when the walls come down."

With grunts and nods, his brothers joined him in lifting and carrying the chunks of drywall and underlying lumber. A few minutes hard work, and the job was done. "Now what?" Alan asked, looking around.

"More. I want to do more," Virgil replied.

Scott nodded. "Wait here, I'll go find Mr. Sunshine."

Scott walked out of the room, and Virgil kicked at an errant chunk of wood. A moment later, Scott reappeared, Bud in tow. The crew chief's scowl turned to surprise as he took in the neatly demolished walls.

Alan grinned cheekily, and the frown returned to Bud's face. "Well, what are you standing around for? You take these back four rooms."

Bud stalked away, and all three brothers shared a grin. Virgil took the lead, going into the next room. "Okay, Al, this one is yours. That's the load bearing wall, the rest comes down."

As Alan got to work, Virgil led Scott to the next room. Before he could say anything, Scott nodded, "Yeah, yeah, that's the load bearer over there. You just go about your business."

"Ten bucks says I finish first."

"You're on!" Came Alan's voice from the room they had just left. Scott and Virgil shared a grin, then Scott went to work and Virgil went to the next room.

It proved to be a library or storage room of some sort, with built-in shelves all the way around. Virgil inspected the shelves. Determining that they were plywood, and of no great value, he swung his hammer with relish. Again, he set up a rhythm, ripping through the shelving and the walls with great abandon.

As he worked, he imagined each rack of shelves to be one of his worries. A prodigious swing, and his fear for his brother was shattered. Another, and his worry about what his family thought was splintered. With each swing, his rage and pain grew until he was literally roaring as he demolished the room. If it hadn't been for the other sounds of construction going on, he probably would have been heard all the way back at the hospital.

Finally, there were no more shelves, no standing walls, and Virgil stood in the middle of the room panting with exhaustion.

"Feel better?"

Virgil spun around to find his brothers both leaning against the doorway. Sheepishly, Virgil dropped the sledge hammer to the floor. "Uh, yeah, actually, I do."

"Good, because you owe me ten bucks," Alan smirked.

Scott rolled his eyes, but Virgil just smiled. "Worth every penny."

Scott stepped into the room, shaking his head. "Well, let's clean this mess up."

The three brothers again pushed and carried the debris to the outer wall of the room. Within minutes the job was done and they stood and stretched.

"We've got one more room to go. Shall we?" Virgil led the way to the last room. He looked around when his brothers didn't follow him.

Scott and Alan were again in the doorway, this time with arms crossed. "What do you think, Al? Do we dare go in there?"

"Seems risky to me, Scott. He might forget that we aren't walls."

"Of course, on the other hand, I might just come knock your heads together," Virgil growled.

"Any time you feel lucky," Alan grinned.

Virgil shook his head and picked a wall and swung his hammer. Within moments, his brothers joined him, swinging at their own walls.


	16. Good News

When Scott had taken Alan and Virgil and left, John's grandma asked, "Well, what is that all about?"

Jeff shrugged tiredly, "Scott and I found a TE construction site. The boys are going to go work off some of the tension. John, I hope you don't mind staying?"

John shook his head, "No, not at all, Dad. I'm still working on tracking Yeng."

"Any luck?"

John sighed, "No, not really. It's like this guy was totally off the grid for the last several years. He served time for a house burglary in '19, then nothing."

"Baby, why don't you set that aside for a minute? Alan got some snacks. You should eat," Ruth's voice was tinged with concern.

John looked at her, holding a bag of cherries. "I guess a few cherries would go down easy."

Ruth held out the bag, and John reached in for a handful. He looked over at his father. "Dad, you want some?"

Jeff looked up wearily, "No, thank you, son."

"You look beat, Dad. You should go lie down."

Jeff ran his hand over his face. "Once Gordon is awake. And the boys are back. Then, yes, I'll take a nap."

"You'll do nothing of the kind. You'll go to the hotel, and you will sleep."

"Mother, there's too much to do. I'm fine. I just need a catnap."

John carefully averted his eyes. He knew better than to get between his father and grandmother. He sighed, thinking that a nap sounded pretty damn good. Maybe if he offered to go lie down, his father would join him... And maybe lobsters would start their own space race.

He listened to his elders arguing in their quiet, bullheaded way and sighed. Maybe he should have gone off with his brothers to… what? Build a house?

He looked up sharply at a step in the hallway. Doctors Halvorsen and Gupta strode into the room, still in their scrubs. Dr. Gupta smiled, "Mr. Tracy, the operation went as expected. Gordon is in the recovery room."

"When can we see him?"

"They'll be taking him to his room within about an hour. You can see him then. Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, thank you, Doctor." Although his father was cordial, John could see he was waiting for Dr. Gupta to leave so he could ask his questions of Dr. Halvorsen.

His grandmother wasn't so hesitant. "Yes, Doctor, I do. I want to know everything about it. You say it went as expected? So you didn't have any problems?"

"No, none at all. Gordon tolerated the anesthesia well, and the breaks were exactly as we anticipated. The bone pins that Doctor Halvorsen provided were amazing to work with, and I can see how they will expedite the healing process. I was very satisfied with the results."

"Thank you, Doctor, you've eased my mind."

The doctor smiled, pleased at Ruth's reaction. "You're very welcome, Mrs. Tracy. Now, if you will excuse me?"

"Yes, of course." Ruth smiled back. John felt a knot of tension ease in his neck and relaxed as the doctor walked away.

"Okay, Bob, how did it go, really?"

Halvorsen nodded in satisfaction. "Very well. Raj has an excellent technique, very sure, very precise. I'm determined to get him on staff over at the sanatorium. I'm confident there won't even be scarring."

John watched as his father finally relaxed. "A scar? That's the least of our worries, Bob. And the skull fracture? What about that?"

"I hesitate to be encouraging about that in front of your son, Mr. Tracy. But only because I think I know him well enough to know that if I told him it's not all that bad, he'd be up and about before it would be prudent." Halvorsen shook his head. "Between you and me, he is very lucky. In the scheme of these types of injuries, Gordon's is relatively minor."

Jeff released a deep breath, and Ruth covered the little sob that escaped with her hand over her mouth. John moved to put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against him.

Halvorsen nodded, acknowledging the family's relief. "Now, that doesn't mean it doesn't bear close watching, but given what your Doctor Carraker has told me about your facilities on the island, barring any setbacks, I'm willing to release him tomorrow morning."

John couldn't help a delighted little laugh. Jeff was smiling hugely, "That's the best news I've heard all day!"

"All right, now, understand, there are conditions. I'll want a full time nurse there for the first three days. And I'll expect Doctor Carraker to attend him daily. And, Mrs. Tracy, I'll leave it in your very capable hands to see to it that he doesn't exert himself until both Doctor Carraker and I give him a full release."

"If I have to sit on him, I will," Ruth replied stoutly.

All three men laughed. Jeff shook Doctor Halvorsen's hand. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate you coming out here and putting up with us."

"It was my pleasure. I'm always pleased to see you folks, and believe me, I like a happy ending as much as the next man. And I know with Mrs. Tracy sitting on him, there will be that happy ending for Gordon."

The doctor took his leave, and John said, "We need to call the guys."

"Be my guest, John," Jeff said expansively. "Then I'll want you to see about leasing an air ambulance. I'm going to put a call in to Kyrano. Let him and Brains know we're coming home." Jeff hugged his mother. "Mom, we're taking our boy home!"

"Praise God. Now, you boys make your calls. I'll just make sure these cherries don't go to waste."

John laughed, and pulled out his cell phone. He speed-dialed Scott, who answered, "Yeah, John? Gordon out of surgery?"

"Yeah, he is. It went well, and get this, Doc Carraker talked Halvorsen into releasing him. Tomorrow morning."

"Are you kidding? Damn, that's great! Does he know yet?"

"No, he's still in recovery. They said he'll be in his room in about an hour."

"Crap," Scott sounded disgusted. "Listen, we're going to be hung up here for a while yet."

John's eyebrows rose, "Really? What are you guys doing, anyway?"

"Dad and I found a TE construction site. We're demolishing the existing structure so they can build a school."

"Oh. Um, and what, they can't do it without you?"

"Actually, no. Their heavy equipment operators are all off, so Al and Virg are handling it."

John smiled. "Ah. That explains it, then. Virg found himself a big Tonka Truck, huh?"

"Skip loader. Al got dibs on the excavator."

"So what are you doing?"

"I'm running the betting pool on how long it'll be before Virg tosses Al into a dumpster."

John's smile turned sly. "Fifty bucks says Alan doesn't get tossed."

"Excellent. You're on."

"Okay, then, I gotta go. I'm ordering an air ambulance."

"Hey, get a TE80X, would you? I want to see how they fly in the real world."

John nodded. His brother had been the test pilot for that model a little over two years ago. "I'll see what I can do. Talk to you later."

"Yeah, later."

John disconnected, then spent a very frustrating hour trying to lease an air ambulance. There was no lack of availability, but when John stated the family requirement of only two crewmembers, to fly it back from the island, there were no takers. Not a single company was willing to essentially give over control of one of their very expensive jets to the Tracys.

Finally, John simply called the TE manufacturing facility in Alabama, and had one newly built jet sent to Buffalo ostensibly on a shakedown flight. By the time he finished that, and the arrangement for a medical team, Gordon had been returned to his private room, and his dad and grandma had left the waiting room to go sit with him.

Sighing, John closed up his laptop, and headed for the fourth floor. In the hallway, outside of Gordon's room, he found four men in TE security jackets deep in discussion. Upon seeing the blond haired Tracy's approach, the men stopped talking and came to a kind of relaxed attention.

"Everything all right?" John asked.

The oldest of the four, a man John knew to be ex-Air Force, responded, "Everything's fine, sir. We're just changing shifts."

"Okay. Uh, did my dad tell you we're expecting them to release Gordon tomorrow morning? We'll be heading back to the island."

"No. Thank you, we appreciate the information."

John could see the man was thinking, calculating how the information affected the job. Nodding, he said, "You're welcome. I'll see you guys later."

"Yes, sir."

John nodded once more then entered his brother's room. He found his father and grandmother sitting, watching Gordon as he slept. John felt a smile come over him. He stepped up and pulled out his cell phone, and centering it on his brother's face, snapped a picture.

Jeff looked up, a question in his eyes. "Blackmail material," was all John said.

Jeff frowned and looked again at his sleeping son, only then noticing the slack jaw and bit of drool. He reached to the box on the bedside table, and pulled out a tissue and wiped his son's chin. "Did you get that air ambulance, son?"

"Yeah, kind of. I had to co-opt one off the line at Tuscaloosa."

Jeff frowned. "Son, I want medical personnel on that flight."

"I'm on it, Dad. I've got a crew from Hawaii flying in tonight. They'll fly out with us, then back to Hawaii. Oh, and Mrs. Ngala is on her way to Auckland. I figure one of us can go pick her up."

Jeff nodded, Agnes Ngala was an International Rescue operative who was a fully qualified registered nurse. "Where are your brothers?"

"They're still at that construction site. I guess they didn't want to leave the job half done."

"What job?" Gordon asked in a whispery voice. John looked over at his brother, who was shifting around on the bed, eyes slitted open.

Ruth stood up, and leaned over the bed. "How are you feeling, honey?"

"Like roadkill."

"Well, the operation was successful, you'll be feeling better soon enough."

"Can't be soon enough for me, Grandma. Is there any water?"

Jeff was quick to pour a glass from the plastic carafe at the bedside. "Little sips, son."

"Thanks, Dad," Gordon slurred, then closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

John raised an eyebrow. "Well, that was anticlimactic."

Jeff smiled. "It's good enough for now. Mom, how are you holding up?"

"Don't you worry about me. I'm just fine. Unlike you and your sons, I know the importance of proper sleep."

"As a matter of fact, I've been thinking about that, Mom. If I'm going to fly us home tomorrow, I'm going to need a solid eight hours. When the boys get back we'll arrange a night watch, then John and I will head for bed."

"Me?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you. I need a co-pilot."

"What about Scott?"

"What about him?" Jeff challenged his son.

"Uh, he's not going to be happy if he isn't on the flight deck."

"He'll be flying Tracy Three. You want second seat or not?"

"Absolutely," John grinned. In a family of pilots, the third son rarely got a chance to co-pilot with his dad, and he relished the opportunity.

"Can I have your stereo when Scott kills you?" Gordon asked wearily without ever opening his eyes.

"Naw, I'll just tell him it was your idea," John replied, a certain fondness taking the bite out of the response.

"Good idea," Gordon said, one eye opening momentarily. "Put me out of my misery."

"Gordon! None of that, sweetie. Jeff, go get the nurse, please." Ruth looked up at her son, the heartache clear in her eyes.

"I'll go, Dad." John headed for the door.

It was only a few steps to the nurses' station, and John quickly identified the head nurse. "Excuse me, my brother's awake, and he's in some pain. Can we get someone in to do something about it?"

The sharp-eyed nurse nodded, "Yes, Mr. Tracy. Give me a moment to alert the doctor, and I'll be right in."

"Thanks."

John turned to head back to the room, but stopped when the elevator door opened, and his three sweaty brothers stepped out. "No showers, huh? Bold choice."

Scott shot him a look. "Gordon awake yet?"

"Yeah, but he's hurting some."

With a worried frown, Scott strode to Gordon's room, Alan and Virgil a half step behind. Knowing the small room would be crowded, John leaned back against the nurses' station, letting his exhaustion sweep over him. He glanced at his chronometer, and was surprised to find it was only 5 p.m. His time sense was always a bit skewed when he came earthside.

Within a few minutes, Ruth came out of the room, and spotting John, came over to him. "Honey, let's go sit somewhere. I have a job for you and that computer of yours."

The nurse behind the desk heard the comment, and spoke up kindly, "You know, there's a peace garden around back. Go down to the first floor, turn left and follow the signs. It's very pretty right now. Lots of spring flowers."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, thank you. John?" Ruth reached out to take her grandson's arm.

It was only a few minutes walk to the enclosed garden, which was indeed pretty, with daffodils just fading and tulips and hyacinths just starting to bloom. They found a quiet bench beneath a flowering tree with a bubbling fountain near by.

As soon as they sat, John took off his jacket, and put it over Ruth's shoulders against the evening chill. "What can I do for you, Grandma?"

"I want you to find me a nice Italian restaurant nearby. Today's been a long day, and I want a good meal for us all."

Opening his laptop, John asked, "Does it have to be Italian? What about a steakhouse?"

"Well, let's just see what's available. I favor Italian because the carbohydrates in the pasta will help everyone sleep."

John smiled as he set his search parameters. His grandma was always on the ball, and always thinking of what was best for the family. He scrolled through the offerings on the screen. "Uh, how about this one? Mamma Mia Pasta and Pizza?"

"Tsk," Ruth shook her head in exasperation. "John, I said a restaurant, not a pizza joint. Now, let me see. Here, this one, Casa d'Oro. See if we can get a reservation for seven o'clock."

John sighed. His grandma had managed to zero in on one of the poshest offerings. It would mean suit and tie. Knowing it would be useless to argue, he dialed the number. "Yes, I'd like to make a reservation for this evening at seven. Uh, five."

"Six, John," Ruth interrupted.

Shaking his head, John nevertheless corrected himself, "Excuse me, that will be six people not five. Oh. Well, what time is… hang on… Grandma, they can't seat us at seven. It's either six thirty or eight fifteen."

"Well, then I guess it will have to be six thirty."

John shrugged, "Six thirty, please… the name is Tracy. Really? Wow, that's a coincidence, isn't it? I guess you should make it Ruth Tracy. Yes. Thank you."

As John disconnected, he answered the question in Ruth's eyes. "They already had a reservation for two for a Kenneth Tracy. Long lost relative, do you suppose?"

"If he is, I've never heard of him."

"Grandma, there is no way we're going to leave Gordon here without at least one of us with him."

Ruth gave John a wry look then walked over to the TE security man by Gordon's door. "Mr. Atwood, I want to take my son and grandsons out to dinner, but they'll be reluctant unless they're very sure that Gordon will be safe. Do you have suggestions for convincing them?"

John sighed, a small smile on his lips. He had to remember not to doubt his indomitable grandmother in the future.


	17. Gus

Alan moved quickly down the hospital corridor. There was absolutely no reason to think anything had happened to his brother in the two and a half hours he'd been gone, but anxiety had reared its ugly little head as he'd driven back from the restaurant.

His brothers and father had put up a good front for Grandma. But Alan had no doubt whatsoever that as soon as any or all of them thought that Ruth was asleep, they'd be on their way back to the hospital. At least, he hadn't had to fake compliance with her wishes. He'd been chosen to stay with Gordon all night. The theory was that he'd be able to sleep on the flight home.

As he approached Gordon's room, the two security men sitting outside the door watched his coming with alert eyes. Alan nodded to the men, and entered the room. TE's chief of security, Duane Atwood, stood up from the chair next to Gordon's bed. Alan asked, "So, how's he doing?"

Atwood shook his head, grinning, "Oh, he's feeling no pain, sir."

Alan cocked a questioning eyebrow, but before the man could answer, Gordon's eyes popped open, and he called out happily, "Allie! Hey, how you doin'? You bring me anything to eat?"

Alan felt a grin form. "They've given you the good stuff, haven't they?"

"Oh, heck yeah! I feel great. How are you? Did you bring me anything? Grandma brought me something, but I can't remember what. Do you know? How was the restaurant? Dad said it was Italian. Did they have calamari? Did you bring me some? Hey, whaddaya say we go down to the beach? Maybe go diving?"

Alan couldn't help but laugh. "Whoa, one thing at a time, bro! So, I take it you're doing okay, right? You want any water or anything?"

With a look for permission, Atwood got up and left the room, Alan moving easily into his chair. Gordon made a goofy frown, looked around and spotted Alan sitting in the chair. "Hey, Al! How was the restaurant?"

"It was good. I had a steak. Everybody else had pasta. They've all gone to the hotel to catch some shuteye. Can I get you anything?"

"No. When's Dad coming back?"

"Not until the morning. Why?"

"I was going to ask him something."

"What?"

Gordon just stared for a moment, then replied, "What, what?"

"What were you going to ask Dad?"

"Did you have dessert? Hey, did you see my fish? Where is it?" Gordon started looking around as if he expected a fish to flop onto the bed.

Alan continued to smile. Gordon's hopscotch method of conversation didn't bother him in the least. He was just glad that his brother wasn't in any apparent pain. Patiently, he asked, "What fish, Gordy?"

Gordon looked up at him, blearily. "Fish? Oh! Grandma bought me this really neat little holographic projector. It projects a fishbowl. With a clownfish." Gordon shook his head, "It's not right you know. A clownfish couldn't really live in a little ol' fishbowl, but I guess Grandma didn't know that."

As soon as Alan understood what Gordon was talking about he'd started checking around the room. In a drawer by the bed, he found a black disc. "Is this it?"

"What? Hey, what's that? Is that for me? What is it?"

"Give me a second… Okay, this looks like an on switch. Oh!" Alan exclaimed with delight. Pressing the on button had caused a very realistic fishbowl with an orange and white fish to form above the disc.

"Oh, hey, Grandma got me that! Look at it. It looks so real."

Gordon reached out to touch the fishbowl as Alan set it down on the table. As soon as his finger brushed the 'glass' of the bowl, the little fish squeaked, "Hey, I'm tryin' to swim here!"

Both men started at the little voice. Gordon frowned. "How'd you do that, Al? I mean, it really looked like it was talking."

Alan grinned at his brother's confusion. "I didn't do anything. It must be the program. Here, let me try…"

As Alan moved his hand forward, the fish spun to face him. "Put that finger in here and I'll bite it off."

"Whoa. Feisty little guy, isn't him?"

"Who you callin' little, bub? I was the big fish in my anemone."

"Hey, no need to be rude," Gordon said, frowning.

The fish swam to the top of the water and stuck its head up, giving Gordon the eye. "Yeah? What do you know about it?"

"Uh, well, I'm your owner, and I don't think you should be rude to my brother."

"You're the boss?"

"Yeah." Gordon's apparently earnest conversation with his fish had Alan biting back a laugh.

"Okay, Boss. So how about fixing up this dump?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Where's the castle? Where's the bright blue gravel? Where's the treasure chest and the little diver dude? I mean, I'm naked to the world here."

"Oh, um, well, we're in a hospital right now. Um, how about as soon as we get home, I've got a nice big tank with all that stuff, okay?"

Alan's eyebrows went up. Apparently the drug fog had caused his brother to forget that the fish wasn't real. "Gordy? Maybe we should turn it off for now. Save the batteries."

Gordon looked up, a confused frown on his face. "No, I like him."

"Hey Boss, is this guy bothering you? Just give the word, and I'll take him down for you."

"You will?"

"Yeah, I can take him. Might be a while, but I'll have him blubbering like a baby."

Alan snorted, "Not likely, fishface."

"Who you calling fishface?"

"Uh, thanks, but I don't need you to take my brother down. He's not bothering me, okay? Uh, what's your name anyway?"

"How should I know? You haven't told me yet," the little fish complained.

"Oh, uh, how about Augustus? That fits, don't you think?"

Alan frowned. "Augustus? What kind of name is that for a fish?"

"Hey, who asked you?" Augustus replied.

"Well, I figure I can call him Augie, or Gus. Yeah, Gus. What do you say, Gus? Will that work?"

"Sure, Boss, anything you say."

Gordon leaned back on his pillow and closed his eyes. Alan was instantly alert. "Gordy, you okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'm just tired."

"Okay, well, you just go to sleep." Alan pulled the bed table back, a wary eye on Gus, but the program had apparently gone to some sort of default mode as soon as Gordon's eyes had closed, and the fish to all appearance was just that, a fish swimming in a bowl.

Confident that it wasn't going to disturb his brother, Alan sat back in his chair, and pulled a race car magazine from his coat pocket. He settled down to read.

Sometime later, his cellphone vibrated in his pocket, telling him he had a call. With a glance at his sleeping brother, he got up and moved into the small bathroom. "Hello?"

"Al? Everything okay?" Scott asked, weariness apparent in his voice.

"Everything's fine. He's sleeping."

"You need anything? Coffee? A book? Anything at all, I'll get it and be right over."

"No, I've got everything I need. I thought you were piloting tomorrow. Have you decided to let Virg fly instead?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be ready to fly. I was just going to drop whatever you needed off."

"I'm not worried, Scott. I just don't need anything. Besides, you never know if Grandma will do a midnight bed check, you know? Just stay there, okay? I'll call if anything happens."

There was a long pause, and Alan resigned himself to his brother's presence. To his surprise, Scott finally sighed and said, "Yeah. I know you're right. I just wish I could be in two places at once, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. If it makes you feel any better, Grandma got him a guard fish."

"Guard fish? You mean that holograph?"

"Yeah. It thought I was bugging Gordon, and it threatened to take me out."

Scott chuckled, as Alan knew he would. "Yeah, okay. Listen, I want you to take care of Gordon for me, but I also want you to take care of yourself, you hear?"

"FAB, bro."

"Okay, good night, then."

Alan signed off, then walked out into the bedroom, smiling at the warmth of his big brother's regard. His eyebrows went up as he saw Gordon watching him come in. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You thirsty or anything?"

"Yeah, my mouth is all dry."

Alan poured a glass of water from the carafe on the table. "Um, this has been here awhile. You want me to get some ice for it?"

"No, that's okay."

Alan noticed that his brother seemed to be coming down from the drug high, his eyes a bit duller, and his mind moving slower. "You feel okay? You want me to get the nurse or something?"

"No. No nurse." Gordon took a few small sips of the water, then set the glass down. "So, talk to me."

"Okay. What about?"

"I need to know what happened, Al. All of it."

"Oh," Alan replied softly.


	18. The Most Important Meal Of The Day

Ruth did one last check around the hotel room that had been her sleeping place for the last two nights. Satisfied that she'd left nothing behind, she set her suitcase by the door, and left the room. She walked quietly down the hallway.

It was barely five a.m., but she'd felt she'd slept enough. Knowing her son and grandsons would undoubtedly be up early, she planned to stake out the hotel lobby from the same table she'd shared with her grandsons the previous morning. She'd see to it that they all had a decent breakfast before going over to the hospital.

"Mom!" Ruth turned back from the elevator to see her son striding toward her. "Good morning." Jeff leaned over to kiss her cheek, and she reached up to caress his face.

"Good morning, sweetheart. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Yes, I did, actually. I, uh, took a pill."

Ruth nodded. "Well, come have breakfast with me."

"Let me just check on Alan." As they entered the elevator, Jeff pulled out a cell phone and pressed a speed dial number. "Son, how's your brother? Good. How was his night, did he sleep? Yes. All right. Yes, your grandmother and I are going to breakfast right now. We'll be right over once we've eaten. Yes. Wait, your grandmother would like a word."

Ruth took the phone. "Everything's all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Gordon's sleeping. He's doing fine. He was restless for a while, but he settled down hours ago."

Ruth nodded, the worry easing a bit. "That's good, baby. What can I bring you for breakfast?"

"I don't know, Grandma, whatever looks good, I guess."

"All right, sweetie, we'll be there in a while."

"Okay, Grandma, I'll see you then."

Ruth handed the phone back to her son. "Well, that's a relief."

A waitress came up to them. "Good morning. Will it be just the two of you?"

"I'd like that table right there, please." Ruth indicated the table with the clear view of the lobby. "We're expecting at least a few more."

The waitress nodded and gestured for them to take their seats. "Can I start you folks off with coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please," Ruth smiled as she took the menu.

"I'll have the same." Jeff waited for the waitress to leave. "What's so special about this table, Mom?"

"Scott!" Ruth called, and Jeff looked up to see his eldest son enter the room.

Scott moved easily to the table. "Good morning, Dad, Grandma."

"Well, I'm glad to see you know enough to get a good breakfast."

Scott had the grace to duck his head. "Yeah, well, I just got off the phone with Al, and he told me you two would be here. After yesterday, I knew enough not to try to get by you."

Jeff raised an eyebrow, but didn't mention it. "Your brother still asleep?"

"Oh, well, you know Virg. His religion prevents him from getting out of bed before noon."

Jeff nodded. "I think John's joined that church. He was dead to the world when I left the room."

"Well, I'm glad they are able to sleep, even if you two aren't."

Jeff shared a glance with his son. "I might point out you were out of your room first, Mom."

Ruth sniffed. "Well, of course I was. How else could I be sure you would all eat?"

The conversation stopped as the waitress came over, carrying an extra menu and a steaming coffeepot. "The first pot of the morning. Would you like some, sir, or maybe some tea?"

"Coffee's great, thanks."

"Well, look over your menu while your grandmother and I order. I don't want to spend all morning here," Jeff said brusquely.

The waitress pulled out her pad and looked expectantly at Ruth. "I think the garden crepe, please. And some tomato juice."

Jeff glanced up, to see if the waitress was ready. "I'll have the Lumberjack, eggs over easy, sourdough toast."

"Any juice?"

"No, thank you. Just keep the coffee coming."

"And you, sir?"

Scott looked up, then scanned the menu one more time. "I'll have the hot links omelet. White toast. And the basket of sweet rolls. And, um, an order of bacon, crispy."

Scott smiled up at the waitress as he handed her his menu. When he looked back at his table mates, he started at the twin stares. "What? I'm hungry."

Ruth smiled, glad to see evidence that her grandson was feeling better. She reached over and patted his hand, then picked up her cup and sipped her coffee. "So, how are you two coming with finding out who was behind this?"

Both Jeff and Scott froze for a moment, carefully not looking at each other or Ruth, but then Jeff seemed to come to a decision. He took a sip of his own coffee, then sighed. "We're getting there. My people in the area have tracked down a gang of thugs that have started bragging about a 'big score.' Once I get the confirmation I need, then I'll make a decision on how to handle it."

Ruth could tell from the look on Scott's face that this was news to him, but he remained quiet for the moment. Ruth sipped her own coffee, and said, "You'll stay within the law, of course."

Another moment of freeze, then Jeff said easily, "Of course, Mom."

Ruth set her cup down and looked searchingly at her son, who carefully avoided her gaze. "Jeff, I want your solemn promise. Promise me you'll not take this into your own hands."

Still not looking at her, Jeff slowly shook his head. "Mother, they hurt my boy. It's only by God's grace that they didn't kill him."

"It would not be God's grace that would sanction revenge, son."

"There's more to this than revenge, Grandma," Scott spoke softly, but with total conviction. "It's a matter of safety. If we don't take this to them and shut them down, they'll keep trying, and sooner or later, they'll succeed. We've always known our equipment can be turned into terrible weapons in the wrong hands. We can't allow that. We have to stop these people in a way that they will understand. In a way that will keep them from ever trying again."

"Sweetheart, that argument is as old as time. It's been used to validate feuds and wars and all manner of evil. Am I wrong to believe that we are better than that? That we believe in the rule of law? That we will not stoop to evil deeds in the name of safety?"

Scott started to reply, then shook his head, the conflict clear in the stiffness of his neck, and the worried frown on his face. Jeff sighed again, and shook his head. "I understand what you're saying, Mom. And I'll keep your words in mind. But I'll make no promises until I have a firm understanding of the situation."

Ruth was prevented from responding by the return of the waitress, bearing Ruth's juice and Scott's basket of pastries. "Your breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. Can I get you anything in the meantime?"

Scott rolled his eyes as his father snagged one of his rolls. "Yeah, a cup of coffee and another menu, and another basket of rolls as soon as you can."

The waitress gave Scott a look of confusion, then jumped at a soft voice behind her. "Excuse me, please."

She moved aside, and a rumpled looking John slid into the seat she had inadvertently blocked. With a bemused shake of her head, she went off to fulfill the order. John zeroed in on the basket of rolls and took one. "Good morning, everyone. Alan says Gordon just woke up, and the nurse came and gave him pain medication."

"Those are my rolls, John."

"They're tasty, thanks."

The waitress returned with the coffeepot and a menu, which John ignored. "Thanks. What's the seasonal fruit today?"

"We have melon wedges, and a fresh compote of strawberries."

"Great. Can I have the melon, and a short stack of pancakes, and an order of sausage, please?

"Certainly, sir." The waitress finished noting her pad, then asked Scott as she refreshed everybody's coffee, "Did you still want the additional rolls?"

"Don't let the innocent looks fool you. I'm at a table surrounded by pastry thieves. Yes, I definitely want another basket."

The waitress chuckled as she walked away. Ruth sat back and considered. She had no intention of dropping the issue of revenge, but there was no point in spoiling a meal, especially as there might not be time for another meal before they left for home.

To John she said, "Honey, did you sleep well?"

"Like a log. Nothing helps sleep like knowing your little brother is safe," John said feelingly, to the nods around the table.

"Good, baby. Jeff, will John be staying home until Gordon is able to work?"

"I hadn't thought that far, Mom. What do you say, son? Will you take your brother's place on the front line?"

"Absolutely, Dad. I've already called my publisher and asked for an extension on the deadline," John nodded decisively. "Actually, I've been thinking these guys could use a role model for efficiency and skill."

Scott shot his brother a look, "You really do live a rich fantasy life, don't you?"

"With brothers like mine, fantasy is far superior to harsh reality."

Ruth pursed her lips to hide the smile, and said with what she hoped was a note of warning, "John."

Having scored his points, John said easily, "Sorry, Grandma."

"Son, what time is the ambulance team arriving?"

Looking at his chronometer, John replied, "Uh, actually, they would have landed about a hour ago. Mr. Atwood was arranging to pick them up. The air ambulance will be here by ten a.m. Scott, you'll need to make a stop in L.A. to pick up Mrs. Ngala."

"Listen, you got enough sleep last night, I was thinking you should fly the ten-seater home. You need the flight hours."

Ruth saw John's eyes flash, but Jeff had it in hand. "No, son, I want John with me. You'll have Virgil for co-pilot. John can get his hours in ferrying Agnes home when Gordon is doing better."

Scott's face was a calm mask, but Ruth knew he was upset at not being on the air ambulance. She reached over and patted his hand, before turning to her son. "Jeff, what about Tracy One? We're not leaving it behind are we?"

"Actually, I'm sending it to Tuscaloosa with the men who flew the air ambulance up. It's due for scheduled maintenance, and with Gordon sidelined, it just makes sense not to tie up anybody on the island to do it."

"Well, it sounds as if… everything is under control." Ruth leaned back to let the waitress put the plate with her breakfast in front of her.

The woman quickly and efficiently put plates full of food in front of Jeff and Scott. In front of John, she placed a bowl with wedges of cantaloupe and honeydew melon. "Your pancakes and sausage will be up in just a bit. Can I get anybody anything else right now?"

Jeff looked around the table, "Uh, can I have some catsup, please?"

Ruth sighed gustily, as the waitress stepped away. Jeff looked mulish. "Now, Mother, there's no point in spending good money on breakfast if I'm not going to enjoy it."

"Besides, Grandma, I need the catsup for my sausage," John batted his eyes.

"Did it ever occur to either of you to taste your food before drowning it in catsup?"

The waitress dropped off the catsup, and Jeff immediately reached for it, pouring a healthy dollop on his plate. "Everything is better with catsup, Mom," he said determinedly.

As her son put the bottle back on the table, Ruth sat back and crossed her arms, a gimlet eye on her eldest grandson. Scott was careful not to look her way. He picked up his fork and took a mouthful of his omelet, and chewed with apparent satisfaction. Ruth shook her head, "You're not fooling me, Scott."

Scott sighed, then chuckled. He reached for the catsup bottle. "Sorry Grandma. I guess the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree."

Ruth shook her head in fond memory. "Well, you're right about that. I couldn't break your grandfather of his breakfast catsup addiction either. In fact, I can remember Grant's own grandmother complaining about his grandfather and father going through gallons of the stuff."

Jeff said loftily, "It's the true mark of a Tracy, Mom. Catsup puts hair on your chest."

Ruth chuckled, then turned to Scott. "Honey, there's your brother. Go get him before he walks out."

Scott looked up, then rose to go stop Virgil from leaving the hotel. As soon as he left the table, Jeff and John reached in unison to purloin a sweet roll from Scott's basket. Ruth signaled the waitress. "Dear, we're going to need another cup of coffee, and a menu, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

The waitress moved quicker than the sleepy-eyed Virgil, and by the time he'd made his way to the table and sat down, she had the coffee in front of him. He took the menu, then he put it down with a grunt, and reached over to take the last sweet roll.

Ruth frowned. She didn't care how sleepy her grandson was, she wasn't about to put up with discourtesy. "Virgil, that was unconscionable. When someone serves you, the very least you can do is acknowledge it."

Virgil's eyes widened, as he woke up. Ruth rarely chastised him. "Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Grandma. I'll apologize to her."

Ruth shook her head. "That's not necessary, honey, just remember, you can make her day good or bad by your behavior."

"Yes, ma'am." He looked around the table with a frown. "Was that the last of the sweet rolls?"

Scott rolled his eyes in disgust. "You try ordering them. Maybe you'll have better luck at getting one than I did."

John stifled a chuckle. The waitress had delivered his sausage and pancakes and he'd been eating steadily. Jeff sat with his most innocent look on his face as he too concentrated on his breakfast. Virgil just looked confused.

The waitress appeared to take Virgil's order, and he gave her a dazzling smile. "Yes, please. I'd like the steak and eggs. Scrambled, with white toast. And can I have a double order on the cheese hash browns?"

"How would you like your steak, sir?"

"Uh, medium-rare, please."

Before the waitress could leave, Ruth raised her hand, "And could we please have an order of the strawberry crepes with a double side of crispy bacon, to go?"

"And yet another basket of pastries, please," Scott added with weary patience.

The waitress smiled, shaking her head at the antics, and said, "Absolutely, sir. Would you like them in a locked box?"

Scott shook his head, sadly. "No point. They'd just rip it apart."

The waitress laughed merrily and headed for the kitchen. Jeff sat back and stretched. "I'm ready to go. How about you, son?"

Scott nodded immediately, but Ruth laid down the law. "I want you to wait for Alan's breakfast before you go."

Jeff hid his frown. "John can bring it when he's done."

"I'll tell you what. Here's my room key. You and Scott go up and get all of our luggage, and check us out. By the time you've done that, Alan's breakfast and John will be ready to go."

Jeff flushed with irritation. He hated being ordered around. But after a moment and a final sip of coffee, he nodded his head. "Come on, son, let's go get this show on the road."

Ruth watched the men leave, then turned to Virgil. "And how did you sleep, baby?"

"Good. The beds here are pretty comfortable."

"Really? Mine was kind of lumpy," John said after a sip of coffee.

"Weren't you able to sleep?" Virgil asked his brother.

"No, I was okay. It just was a lumpy mattress."

"Huh. Mine was fine."

The waitress returned with the basket of pastries, and a fresh pot of coffee. Ruth covered her cup with her hand, but both John and Virgil took refills, then snatched up sweet rolls. Ruth shook her head. "Alright, that's enough of that. Your brother ordered those rolls for himself. You'll be so good as to leave the rest alone."

John, who was almost done with his sausage and pancakes, readily agreed. Virgil was less amenable, but with a sigh, nodded. When the waitress returned a few minutes later with Virgil's breakfast, and a white styrofoam container, she looked at the lone sweet roll remaining in the basket in consternation. "He wasn't kidding about the pastry thieves, was he?"

"No, he was not," Ruth said firmly. "Dear, would be please box up that sweet roll, and put in another order of them. I'm afraid we're going to empty out your sweet roll pantry."

"Well, don't you worry about that. It's just nice to see someone enjoy them so much."

Ruth smiled, "And if we could have the check, please?"

"Of course. Let me go get the rolls, and I'll have the check ready in a moment."

"Virgil, don't inhale your food. Take your time, nobody is going anywhere without you," Ruth said in fond exasperation.

Virgil paused. "Sorry, Grandma. These potatoes are almost as good as yours."

Ruth smiled at the compliment, "Well, they'll sit like lead no matter how good they are if you eat them too fast. Just relax."

"Yes, ma'am." Virgil made a show of sitting back and eating more slowly.

The waitress returned with another white box and a plastic bag, which she put both boxes into. As she reached for the check, Jeff and Scott walked up, Jeff saying easily, "I'll take the check."

The waitress looked up and smiled. "Yes, sir. You can pay at the register up front."

"Thanks. John, you ready?"

John stood up, saying, "Yes sir. You coming, Grandma?"

Ruth shook her head. "I'll be along with Virgil. Scott, one of those boxes has your sweet rolls. Be sure to let Alan have at least one."

Scott's eyebrows climbed. "Virg?"

Virgil sighed. "Grandma."

"Don't worry."

"Thanks."

"Later."

"Easy."

The rest of the family ignored the exchange. Ruth finished her coffee as Jeff led two of his sons over to the register. Virgil went back to eating his breakfast. Ruth reached over and ran a soft hand through his hair. "You need a haircut, sweetie."

"I was thinking of letting it grow. You know, like with a ponytail. Maybe grow a beard."

Still running her fingers through his hair, she said thoughtfully, "Your grandpa did that once, back when we were kids. It didn't work out."

Surprised, Virgil responded, "Really? I don't remember seeing any pictures. What do you mean, it didn't work out?"

"Oh, well, he was working on a tractor, and his hair got caught in the motor. It caught him good and tight, and he couldn't reach shears or anything to cut it. He was out in the barn, and I was in the house and I didn't hear him bellow, so he was stuck there for a good two hours before I came looking for him."

"Oh, wow. He wasn't hurt, was he?"

"Only his pride. Especially as I couldn't seem to stop laughing. Oh, he looked so funny, like he was making love to that stupid tractor. He cut it all off then and there, and he never grew it longer than a crewcut from that day on."

Virgil grinned. "Well, thanks for the warning, Grandma. I think I'll keep my pride intact and get the haircut."

Ruth smiled. "You're welcome. Now, if you're finished, why don't we head over and see Gordon?"

"Yes, ma'am." Virgil immediately stood up and offered his grandmother his arm, and the two made their way out to their rental car.


	19. Home Again

Scott stood with Virgil and Agnes Ngala on the tarmac in front of the hangar on Tracy Island. The air ambulance piloted by his father was on final approach, and Scott was anxious, despite his total confidence in his father's skill.

He rarely allowed himself to think about how vulnerable his family was. But once the thought had occurred, he couldn't help but realize that almost every person in the world that mattered to him was on that jet.

He watched as the jet touched down, and heard the release of held breath from his brother. It reminded him that he wasn't alone in his concerns. He caught Virgil's eye and smiled his relief. Virgil grinned crookedly back, rolling his eyes at his own fears.

The jet rolled to a stop in front of them. Scott heard the hiss of the hatch seals opening as he and Virgil escorted Agnes to the rear of the craft. Like a much larger cargo plane, the rear end started dropping down, forming a ramp.

Scott didn't wait, hopping aboard as soon as it was opened enough to squeak through. The medical flight team were all gathered around the locked down gurney. Scott moved in at the first opening and found his brother awake and apparently… happy.

"Scotty! Hey! What are you doing here? Hey, did you know this is an airplane? Feels just like a hospital room. Smells like it too. How are you? What happened to your baseball bat?"

Scott couldn't help his smile. Gordon had always had dopey reactions to painkillers. "I'm fine. I can see that you are too. We're home now. You just relax and we'll get you into the house. You remember Mrs. Ngala?"

"Agnes! Hi! How are you? You came to visit us? How's your kid? Um, Derrick?"

"Deleon. He's fine, Gordon. I'm going to take care of you for a few days."

"Aw, that's nice of you. Thanks. Maybe you can come swimming with me. I'm going to go swimming. Hey, did you meet Alani and Kelly and Jason? They're real nice. But they don't want to go swimming. They have to go back to Hawaii. Hawaii's nice."

The three blue-suited medics were all smiling. The oldest, apparently the doctor, took Agnes aside and started giving her information on the flight. Scott was torn between listening in and staying with his brother, who was babbling something about having seen an octopus in a corner of the plane.

His father came back down the aisle from the cockpit. "Everything okay?"

Before anyone could answer, Gordon piped up, "Hey! Dad! I'm over here! Where you been? Hey, Al told me you thought I was dead. I'm not. See? I'm moving and everything. I'm still alive."

Jeff couldn't keep the smile from his face, although Scott could see the shadow in his eyes. "Yes, son, I can tell. Let's see if we can keep it that way."

Jeff turned to the older man. "Doctor? Can we get him moved inside?"

"Yes sir." The man directed his staff to disconnect a couple of monitors and release the locks on the gurney. When they would have started pushing the gurney, Scott and Virgil imperiously usurped their places.

"Ready to go for a spin, Gordy?"

"Huh? What?"

Scott looked down at his brother. "We're going to move you into the house, now."

"Oh. Good. Uh, don't forget Gus."

Scott frowned for a moment, but then he shrugged. "We won't."

With a nod to Virgil, Scott started pushing the gurney toward the ramp. At the bottom of the ramp, both Alan and John were waiting. When they would have moved in, Jeff said, "Boys, let these people do their jobs. Just make sure the way is clear."

As John nodded and led the way, Alan fell in beside Scott, and used a hand to shade his prone brother's eyes from the glare of the sun. "Hey, Al, you got Gus?"

"He's right here in my pocket, Gordy."

"Oh, maybe you should go and put him in my tank. The saltwater one, not the freshwater one."

"Naw, he's okay in my pocket. Besides you're gonna need him in the infirmary. To protect you."

"The infirmary? No, I don't want to go there. Can't I just go swimming?"

"Later on. For now, you need to go to the infirmary. It'll make Grandma happy."

"Oh. Okay. Hey, did you bring Gus? Scotty, did you meet Gus yet? He's really cool."

"So I've heard."

"Aw, what are we going inside for? The sun feels so good." Gordon seemed to be coming down from the drug-induced high, his eyes starting to droop.

"It's okay, you can go outside later. For now, we're going to the infirmary. For Grandma, remember?" Scott asked, but Gordon had fallen asleep.

Scott and Virgil maneuvered the gurney into the elevator. Virgil had to step off to allow the medical staff to board. Nothing would have kept his father out, so it was crowded, but of course, the ride was short.

Scott was not surprised at the reception committee standing anxiously in the hallway when the elevator doors opened. At the forefront was his grandmother, who had headed immediately into the house to make sure everything in the infirmary was to her satisfaction. Brains stood to one side, nervousness showing in the way he fiddled with his glasses. Kyrano was his normal unflappable self, but Tin-Tin hurried forward, her pretty face marred by her frown of concern.

"He's fallen asleep again. Well, that's for the best." Ruth said, her words belied by the tone of disappointment in her voice.

"Probably, Grandma. He was thinking he'd go for a swim," Scott commented with a small fond grin.

Ruth smiled, shaking her head in exasperation. "Doctor Palea, how long will my grandson have to be on those painkillers? As you could see, he has a hard time keeping in touch with reality when he's on them."

The older man nodded, a small grin on his face. He followed Ruth down the hall to the infirmary, Jeff and Scott guiding the gurney between them. "Yes, I could see. I've already advised Nurse Ngala to discontinue the Enephyridine. I understand your family doctor will be here later. We'll let him decide how to proceed from this point, but I've made clear notation on Mr. Tracy's reactions."

Between Scott and the three nurses, the transfer from the gurney to the bed went smoothly, Gordon never so much as twitching. Scott finally stood back, to give the nurses the opportunity to settle his brother. He glanced up for a moment as his brothers all entered, but his gaze was drawn back to Gordon, lying still and quiet on the bed.

"Doctor, he seems pale to me," Scott said calmly, no hint of the worry he felt in his voice.

"He's doing quite well, actually. Given the nature of his injuries, I'd say he's doing remarkably well."

"He's always been a tough kid," Virgil murmured almost to himself.

There were nods all around the room. Scott blew out a breath, and caught his father's eye. Jeff nodded slightly, "Doctor, I want to thank you and your team for your help. John, will you escort these fine people back to the ambulance. I'm sure they'll want to get on home."

John nodded and with a gesture led the medical team out. If they were bothered by the abrupt dismissal, they were too professional to show it, and Scott was sure any hurt feelings would be soothed by John. His father turned the remaining nurse. "Agnes, what do you need?"

Agnes Ngala was a no-nonsense woman who had never been intimidated by the big personalities of the Tracy family. "At the moment, I need this room cleared out. Y'all go about your business. I want Gordon to rest, and he won't if you're all hanging around moping."

Jeff stared at the woman, bemused at being ordered about in his own home. It was Ruth who spoke up. "Well, what are you all waiting for? Boys, you go unpack and get your dirty clothes to the laundry. Brains, dear, you and Tin-Tin go back to that experiment of yours. I'll make sure we keep you up-to-date. Kyrano, I think Agnes and I would like some of that passion fruit iced tea, please."

Scott filed out of the room with his father and brothers, noticing as he left that his grandmother had seated herself beside the bed. Jeff said in a low voice, "Come along boys, we've got some work to do."

Jeff led the way down the hall, Scott bringing up the rear. They had just reached the lounge when Alan suddenly stopped. Reaching in his breast pocket, he pulled out the black disc that Scott recognized as the holographic fishbowl. "Uh, I'll be right back. Gordy will notice if Gus isn't there when he wakes up."

As the young man strode back down the hall, Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Gus?"

"Yeah. Grandma got him a little holographic fish."

"Named Gus."

"Apparently."

Virgil just shook his head. Jeff had already reached his desk and was bringing up his computer. "Boys, come over here."

Virgil and Scott obliged, pulling up chairs as Jeff triggered the head's up display. Scott scanned the report then nodded his head. "That's good enough for me."

"What are we going to do about it, Father?" Virgil asked.

Jeff sat back. "Your grandmother doesn't want us to take the law into our own hands."

"That's all well and good, but if we don't stop them, who will?"

"Stop who?" Alan asked, coming in from the hallway.

"Apparently it's a gang of thugs called, uh, 'Crimson Sunrise.' They're bragging about sneaking a man onto our base." Scott's voice was like brittle ice.

"Not the Hood?" Alan asked, sounding slightly disappointed as he pulled up a chair.

"Not as far as our people could find. The head of this gang is someone called the Chinaman. It seems the Hood has a rival," Jeff said, his voice no less cold than Scott's.

John came in from the balcony. "What's going on?"

"We're figuring out how to take down the people that hurt Gordy," Alan said firmly.

John's eyebrows rose as he joined his family. "So we know who was behind it?"

"Some slimeball called the Chinaman."

"Why do we always attract the creeps with cornball names?" John shook his head, raising snickers from his brothers.

"All right. We need ideas, please."

John nodded, not at all chastised by his father's remark. "Do we know where they're holed up?"

"They don't advertise, but my sources say they're based out of a place called Kampung Sepat. They seem to specialize in extortion and drugs."

"How the hell did they get the technology to take out the security on Two?" Virgil asked, a ferocious frown on his face.

"Yes, Father, these people don't sound like they have the wherewithal, or the brains for that matter, to try something this big," Scott said, his frown no less fierce than his brother's.

Jeff shook his head, putting a second report up on the head's up. "They didn't until this Chinaman person showed up. He seems to have come out of nowhere. The first mention is a few months ago, and now they are hitting the big time, fast."

John narrowed his eyes. "A few months ago?" He suddenly stood up and left the room without a further word.

"Do we really care about any of this? Let's just go and take them out." Alan's impatience was manifest in the jitter in his leg as he sat perched at the edge of his seat.

"We're going to do that, son. Don't you have any doubt on that account. But we're not going charging into a nest of vipers without having every advantage we can get. Any ideas on how to go about this?"

Scott sighed. "My gut tells me to go charge in and rip their hearts out, but to be honest, Dad, we need a hell of a lot more intel before we do anything. We don't know how big they are, what kind of weapons we'd be facing. I'm not putting any more of my brothers at risk until I know more."

"Agreed," Jeff said somewhat regretfully.


	20. The Ethics Of It All

Gordon stretched out, sighing. It felt good to sit in the sun by the pool, even though he'd rather be in the sparkling blue water than on a lounger beside it.

It was also good to be deemed well enough to be left more or less alone. Yes, John was only twenty feet away at a poolside table. But he had his laptop with him and was involved in some project or another.

He watched John surreptitiously, idly wondering what it was that had his brother so intensely engrossed. The fierce look on John's face as he stabbed at the keys of the computer boded ill for whoever was the subject of his scrutiny.

As an experiment, Gordon let out a soft grunt of mock pain. To his chagrin, the blond head shot up immediately. "Hey, you okay over there?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What are you doing, anyway?"

John cocked his head. "You really want to know?"

Gordon was immediately put on guard by the challenging tone. "Uh, do I?"

John considered for a few moments, then with a curt nod, stood up and brought his laptop over to a lounger next to his brother. "I'm taking apart a criminal empire."

Gordon craned his neck to take a look. "Yeah? Is it that new Fantasy of Lies game? Can I play?"

"This is no game, kiddo," John said, smirking. "Remember Virgil telling you about that gang, Crimson Sunrise and their boss, Ugat Borjigin?"

"Uh, Borjigin? I thought the guy was Chinese."

"No, that's a nickname. Turns out he's Mongolian," John said. "Anyway, he's a real piece of work, but nowhere near the Hood's league. He got lucky when he kidnapped a Trans Asian Airlines executive's wife. He was just looking for money, but got a hold of a report on the airlines security sensors, and a study on how to disable them."

"Disabled sensors? That's how that guy got onboard Two."

"Yeah. The airline's sensors are second generation from Brains' original design. The study was by the airline's security people because of some terrorist threats they had gotten. The were looking for ways to eliminate a flaw."

"A flaw? In something Brains designed? Yikes. How's he taking it?"

John rolled his eyes. "About how you'd expect. You might want to go easy around him for a while."

"Thanks for the heads up. So how'd you find out he kidnapped that lady? And how'd he get away with it?"

John shrugged. "Yeah, well, I don't have hard proof, it's just a logical assumption. A report on a design flaw gets stolen during a kidnap, and three weeks later somebody exploits that same flaw to attack International Rescue. One and one equals two."

Gordon slowly shook his head, a frown on his face. "I don't know, Johnny. Seems to me any thug that successfully gets a man on Tracy Island is in ol' Hoody's league, even if it doesn't work."

"I'm not saying he's not clever, Gordy. He definitely has some street smarts, but according to our people, this group is thinking in terms of extortion. Threatening to tell the world where we're located if we don't cough up the dough. And even that is small potatoes. They're bragging about getting fifty million bucks."

"That may be small potatoes to you, but it's a lot of money to me."

"Yeah, but if you think in terms of what our equipment would bring on the black market, it's definitely chump change."

"Yeah, okay, I guess so," Gordon nodded. "So, what are you doing? Giving the Japanese police a few hints?"

John smiled slyly, "No, that would be too easy. Besides, who knows if they'd be able to capitalize on anything I gave them."

"Okay, so what are you doing?"

"I'm hitting them where it hurts." John leaned over to show Gordon the laptop screen, covered with figures. "I've been working since we found out who was behind it all. I've tracked down every bank account, every illegitimate business, very damn source of income these creeps have. I'm going to shut them down hard and fast just as soon as Dad gives the word."

Gordon blinked at the screen. "Well, that's…"

John's head came up at the pause. "What? That's what?"

"Boring."

"Boring. You think two weeks of ten hour days tracing money trails to stop a gang of criminals is boring." John's voice was dangerously flat.

Gordon shrugged, a crooked little smile on his face. "Sorry, Johnny, I gotta call 'em as I see 'em."

"So you'd rather hear Alan's plans to castrate them all? Or maybe Virgil and Scott's plan to drop them out of Thunderbird Two at 15,000 feet?"

"Aw, come on, Johnny. Even you have to admit Alan's fantasies are entertaining."

"What I'm doing is real, not a fantasy. This is going to put them out of business."

Gordon raised an eyebrow at his brother's aggrieved tone. "I don't see how. The whole thing about thieves is if you take away their money, they just go out a steal more."

John shook his head, "This is just part of it. Shutting down their money flow will get them at each other's throats. While they're disorganized, we'll go in and clean house."

Gordon sat up. "Clean house? What do you mean?"

"We're going to teach them a few lessons about messing with the big boys."

"John, I'm asking you, what do you mean?"

John looked his brother in the eye. "We're going to go beat the crap out of any of them that we can catch."

"And Dad's okay with this?"

"Dad's coming with us. He'll be carrying the biggest stick."

"Geez. You gotta be kidding me."

"Don't worry about it. You'll be staying here."

"Like hell I will."

"In case you've forgotten, you're in a cast."

"Yeah, well, it'll make a handy weapon."

"Don't be an idiot."

"Why should I be any different than the rest of you?"

John sighed. "Listen, Dad says these people only understand force. If we don't go take them out, they'll continue to ruin lives. I happen to agree."

"Bullshit, Johnny. If it's about a show of force, use your computer to get the cops to take them down. You guys just want to go get revenge because you felt all weepy when you thought I was dead. It stinks."

"Hey! What's going on?" Scott came down the steps from the house, a worried frown on his face. "I could hear you from the balcony. What's the matter, Gordy?"

Gordon rarely let his temper get the better of him, but at the moment, he was seeing red. "You guys are looking for a fight with a bunch of lowlife scumbags. What the hell is wrong with you? What if someone else gets hurt, Scott? What then?"

Scott shot John a look before raising his hands in a calming motion. "Hey, take it easy, Gordy, you'll make yourself sick. Nothing's been decided yet. We're still figuring out what we're going to do."

"Yeah? So you're not going to do a little hands on demonstration? You're not going out to fight them?"

Gordon was right up in Scott's face, and the older man had to step back and take a deep breath not to respond to at his brother's aggressive stance.

"I said, calm down," Scott said firmly. He turned to his other brother. "John, I'd like a few minutes alone with Gordon here."

John nodded, an inscrutable look on his face. He picked up his laptop and headed up the stairs to the house. Scott watched him go, then sat down on the lounger John had vacated. "Sit down, would you? Relax."

Gordon stood long enough to let Scott know he was only sitting because he chose to, not because Scott told him to. "So, is what Johnny's saying true? You guys are going out to fight that gang?"

"I told you, nothing's been decided."

"Scott, these guys are street thugs. I don't care how much training you do, you could get hurt going after them."

Scott caught Gordon's eye and said with sincerity, "I know that. We all know that. But you have to understand, we thought they'd killed you. I thought they'd killed you. I want to hurt them. I want to hurt them bad."

Scott raised his hand when Gordon would have responded. "I want to hurt them, but I'm not going to put anybody else at risk. Dad and I are working out a way to put them all away without us having to face any of them. But, Gordy, everytime we all get together to hash it out, the anger takes over."

Gordon took a deep breath. "I get that. I get pissed just thinking about any of you guys getting hurt because of me."

"Yeah, I noticed. If just thinking about it makes you angry, imagine how the rest of us felt when we saw that vid of you being hit."

"I could imagine a lot better if you'd let me see that vid myself," Gordon said with a touch of exasperation. His family had decided en masse to 'protect' Gordon from the worst aspects of his ordeal.

"Not going to happen, kiddo. Anyway, don't worry about how we're going to end this. Now that you're out of bed and doing better, I'll make sure you're kept in the loop."

Gordon could see the truth in his brother's eyes, and the tension that had built in his back and shoulders suddenly released itself. Nodding his head, he leaned back on his lounger. "Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that."

"Okay."

Gordon pretended to close his eyes, but through the lashes, he watched as his brother jittered. He considered letting him squirm. Opening his eyes, he sighed, "You know, I really don't need a babysitter. You don't have to sit there."

"Who says I'm babysitting? It's nice out here."

"Uh huh. Okay, well, then kick back and relax."

"Uh, yeah, I think I will." Scott tried to follow his brother's example, lying back on the lounger, but within a few moments he was fidgeting.

Gordon finally took pity on him. "You know, if you look up, you'll see Grandma's out on the balcony, reading. And Kyrano is just over there, pretending to work in his garden. If I need anything, all I have to do is wave a finger."

Scott had the grace to look chagrinned. "I was working on the month end reports. I really need to get them done."

"Geez, you and Johnny are turning into accountants. It's sad, really."

Scott narrowed his eyes. "You're right. Why should I be stuck inside working on reports when I have a wise ass brother that I can delegate to?"

"Hey, I'd volunteer, but unfortunately, I'm disabled."

"Uh huh."

"Yep. Brain injury. Can't work at all."

"Right."

"See? Look." Gordon held up his hand. It was rock steady. "I'm weak. In fact, maybe you should go get me a bowl of ice cream. With chocolate syrup. And whipped cream. And a cherry on top."

"What, no nuts?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to put you out." Gordon batted his eyes.

Under the guise of shaking his head, Scott looked around and confirmed Kyrano's presence in the herb garden. "Uh huh. Okay, since you can't do those reports, I guess I'd better go get them done. You're okay, right?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

Gordon sat back and closed his eyes.


	21. The Breach Repaired

Ugat Borjigin seethed in the back seat of the police car. He shifted his manacled hands, squeezing his fists together. He wanted nothing more than to have a certain neck between those fists.

The last three days had been infuriating. The organization he had hijacked and worked so hard to make his own had been systematically destroyed. He knew that a business rival, a man known only as 'the Hood,' was behind it.

The Hood was the only man with the power and the ruthlessness to dismantle an organization that would have soon rivaled his own. What Ugat could not figure out was how the Hood had found out about him. He'd been so very careful to fly under the radar.

He knew it had to be a traitor within his own ranks. Someone with ambition, trading information for a place in the Hood's organization. Maybe that piece of camel dung, Rafeah.

Ugat shook his head in disgust. It had to be betrayal. It had to be, that was the only explanation. It had started three days ago when, inexplicably, all of his bank accounts had been closed. At the time, it had been a minor inconvenience. He had other sources of income.

But then the local police chief had suddenly grown balls and, with more efficiency than Ugat would have given him credit for, had started attacking. His whores were all arrested, and his drug dens shut down. His marginally legitimate transport and waste hauling businesses were closed by order of the federal government. All of his followers were rounded up and thrown in jail.

He'd spent too much time trying to stop it instead of recognizing it for what it was. By the time he'd realized the danger, his palatial home in a respectable neighborhood was surrounded by the police. To his absolute fury, the arresting officer was a man who'd taken his bribes in the past. When reminded, the man had had the gall to reach out and slap him as if he were a common criminal.

They'd pay. They'd all pay, especially the Hood. If the man thought he could hide himself away, he'd find out just how wrong he was. His funds might be cut off, but Ugat had an ace in the hole. One of his most loyal lieutenants was currently in hiding on the super secret International Rescue base. When he was able to get away, he'd give Ugat everything he'd need to insure a permanent source of revenue.

His anger went cold when they arrived at the police station. He was pulled out of the car and dragged into a interrogation room. They'd all pay for their lack of respect. As he sat waiting, he sneered, thinking of the price he'd extract for their treatment of him.

At the sound of the door opening, he looked up. A detective walked in with a heavy folder and sat across from him. When Ugat would have spoken, the man held up a hand, and turned back to the door.

Two more men walked in and stood staring at him. Ugat shivered involuntarily at the cold hardness in their eyes. The younger of the two had dark blue eyes that seemed to bore into him.

They held themselves with a stiffness that bespoke of great anger, and Ugat found he had to look away. He wondered if the detective intended to leave him alone with these men, and his mouth went suddenly dry. He suddenly understood that he would not be given the chance at revenge, he would be beaten to death right here and now.

Just when he could stand the tension no longer, and looked up, intending to beg for his life, the two men nodded to the detective, and left the room. For a long time, Ugat just sat staring at the door, hardly believing his luck. The detective spoke but Ugat never heard a word. He knew he had just stared death in the eye.


	22. Epilogue

"Damn it!" Virgil shook his hand before raising it to his mouth to suck on the injured finger. He sat back and tossed the wrench on the workbench. He'd been working on a couple of old sonic probes, and he was getting tired. Checking his chronometer, he saw it was time to knock off for the day.

He put the tools away, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands as he headed for the elevator. His mind was running through a mental checklist of maintenance still to be done.

"Hey, anybody home?"

Virgil started, and turned to see his brother Gordon coming up behind him. "What?"

"I called you, and you just kept walking."

"Oh, sorry, I was thinking."

"Yeah, I saw the wisps of smoke."

"Uh-huh. What are you doing down here? You should be resting."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? You're injured. You need to rest."

"Hello? The cast's been off for three days. I am back on duty."

Virgil frowned. "I know the cast is off. Are you sure you're up to it?"

Gordon rolled his eyes. "I'll tell you what. If I come across something I can't handle, I'll let you do it."

"Sorry." Virgil smiled, "I guess I'm still in 'protect the little brother' mode."

"S'okay. I'll forgive a lot. Especially since you took care of Four for me. Al told me there was bullet damage, and you fixed it all up.

Virgil couldn't quite hold his brother's eye. "Yeah, it was the least I could do."

"Ah, geez, you're not still on that 'poor me' thing, are you? Give it a rest. I never check on you when we're out on rescues. We didn't have any protocol for you to check. Checking would not have changed what happened. And most importantly of all, I happen to be incredibly gracious. I forgive you."

Virgil raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Forgive me? You think I need your forgiveness?"

"Well of course you do. I'm the most important thing in your humdrum little world, and you couldn't live with yourself if you thought I was holding a grudge."

"Damn. And I thought they'd ruled out brain damage."

"Hey, you guys, it's dinner time. What're you doing hanging around here?" Alan came striding across the hangar floor.

"We were discussing how boring Virgil's life would be without me."

"And me."

"Goes without saying."

Virgil sighed, pondering. "I think I'd like to try the boredom."

"Aw, say you don't mean it!"

"Yeah, Virg, without us, you'd be what? A low level pencil pusher in some low grade engineering firm? With us, you got the tropics, you got excitement, you got women."

"No, no, Al. No women. Virgil's… well, you know… how to put this kindly… homely as a mud fence."

"You're pushing it."

"Us?"

Virgil sighed. The elevator trip was short, but when his brothers were doing their terrible two shtick, it wasn't short enough. As soon as the door opened, he was striding out. Turning a corner, he saw Scott ahead of him. "Scott."

The eldest Tracy brother turned back, the grin on his face fading as he took in his brother's look of harried exasperation. He raised his eyebrow in question, and Virgil responded with a roll of his eyes.

Coming up behind them, Gordon called out cheerfully, "Hey, Scott! Virgil's said he'd take out the garbage for me."

"Aw, isn't that nice. Virg, will you wash the dishes for me?" Alan asked wistfully.

Virgil never turned back to look at his following brothers. He just stared at Scott, a look of strained patience on his face. Scott's face was still, but Virgil could see the support. "Virg, I think we need to review those new protocols. The one that says you never let Gordon out of your sight when on a rescue."

Virgil perked up. "I've been thinking about that. Have you ever seen those little harness and leash things they put on wayward toddlers? I was hoping we could adapt something like that."

Scott nodded thoughtfully, "That's a good idea. Brains is working on a helmet for him."

'Uh, not wearing a helmet." Gordon's voice floated up.

"As long as he's doing one, he should do two. One in orange, and one in white."

"Definitely. And matching harnesses."

Suddenly, Alan and Gordon started laughing, and after a split second, Virgil and Scott joined in. Alan pushed past Virgil, punching him lightly on the arm as he passed. Scott reached over and ruffled Alan's hair.

Gordon threw an arm over Virgil's shoulders and together they walked down the hall, Alan leading and Scott bringing up the rear. Virgil relaxed into the warmth and contact with his brothers. The smell of corned beef and cabbage coming from the dining room got his mouth watering.

Moving into the dining room, with his grandma and father waiting for them brought a sense of safety and comfort to Virgil. He glanced at the brother he'd almost lost, as Gordon reached for the platter of meat.

Virgil shook his head to himself. He loved the guy and all, but there was no way he'd let him hog the corned beef. He saw the narrowed eyes of his father and brothers, and realized they felt the same.

Jeff cleared his throat, causing Gordon to start, his fork, loaded with the several slices of meat he'd speared, pausing in midair. Looking around at the identical looks around the table, he sighed, putting most of the meat back on the platter. "Oh. So I guess everything's back to normal, huh?"

Virgil was finally able to really smile as he joined in the "Yes!" that resounded throughout the room.

The End.


End file.
